


Walk a Mile

by AVernedi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bodyswap, Getting Together, M/M, POV Alternating, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28723509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVernedi/pseuds/AVernedi
Summary: Later, when everyone had gathered around him, and the candles on the cake had been lit, Kaname felt himself relax again. Not in a contented way, necessarily, but in a hopeful way. Futakuchi and Yasushi had called a truce for now. Maybe that meant they were going to get through the rest of the birthday party in peace. Maybe Kaname could just eat some cake without playing referee.As Kogane and Nametsu called for him to make a wish, Kaname's eyes found the far wall, where the sliding door into the side room was open. His grandma's picture had long since joined his grandpa's on the shrine. In his head, he made a wry face at her.I wish Yasushi and Futakuchi would spend any time at all in each other's shoes.He blew out the candles in one go. Everyone cheered him on.A Date Tech body-swap AU
Relationships: Futakuchi Kenji/Kamasaki Yasushi
Comments: 9
Kudos: 25





	1. Prologue

When Moniwa Kaname was ten years old, he had found out his grandma was psychic. She had been talking to his pregnant aunt after dinner when she had looked her dead in the eyes and described the birthmark her daughter would have. Like an upside-down raindrop, she'd said, right on the baby's hip. When Suko-chan was finally born and they passed her around for all the cousins to hold, Kaname had carefully folded down the edge of her diaper, and sure enough, there it was. An upside-down raindrop, just like his grandma had said.

When Kaname was twelve years old, he had caught his grandma arguing with his grandpa. This wouldn't be weird, except for the fact that his grandpa had been dead five years since and she was sitting seiza in front of his picture, arguing for all the world as though he was arguing back.

"Oba-chan?" Kaname had asked. His voice had been shy back then.

"Kana-chan! Come here." And she had patted the mat beside her. Kaname had sat obediently. "This stubborn man who won't get off his high horse. Is there anything you'd like from the convenience store? Anything at all?"

Kaname blinked at the apparently non-sequitur. But his grandma had always been like that. It was best to just go along with it. "Ice cream?" 

"See?" His grandma had turned back towards the shrine. "He wants ice cream." And she had inclined her head forward as if listening. "Okay, Kana-chan, Oji-chan says you may buy two scratch cards from the convenience store to get money for ice cream. Bring me my purse, I'll get you the money." As Kaname had left the room again, he'd heard his grandma say, "If you would just tell me the lottery numbers, we would all be retired by now, you stingy bastard."

All this to say, Kaname believed in magic. He didn't know exactly to what extent he believed in it or what he thought the rules were, but he did believe there were still things in this world that belonged to the supernatural. To that end he always paid his respects at shrines and spared more than a passing thought for stories of ghosts and ghouls. After his grandma had passed however, he had never experienced anything so up-close and personal.

Until his 18th birthday. 

It was a Thursday. The team was having their usual practice. Kaname and the other third years had come to join them for old time's sake, after which they were going out to celebrate. Normally he would be touched that the team was taking time to celebrate with him, especially on a weekday. And he was! But he kind of had a headache too. Maybe he had a cold coming on. Or, God forbid, a sinus infection.

 _Get through practice,_ he told himself. _One thing at a time._

The volleyball itself wasn't so bad. Hell, they said the endorphins released during exercise could help with headaches, didn't they? It was the stuff around it, the squeak of rubber soles against the gym floor, the fluorescent lighting, that was really getting to him. Even Yasushi and Futakuchi seemed particularly at each other's throats today. He kept Aone within reach of them the entire practice, the closest thing he had in his power to a gag order. He loved them both but also...

"I hate to say 'I told you so,' Kamasaki-san," Futakuchi said. His voice, under its usual taunting sing-song (and boy, did Kaname have theories about _that_ ), was genuinely frustrated. "But I _did_ tell you to keep your arms firmed up. I guess all those muscles are just for show after all."

"Shut the fuck up," Yasushi gasped, hands on his knees. He looked too annoyed at himself to even come up with a retort for Futakuchi which was usually a sign the whole thing was about to hit critical mass. "Just shut the fuck up."

Aone was Kaname's savior, stepping into Futakuchi's line of sight and glaring down at him while Kaname checked to see how much time was left in practice. Twenty minutes. A little early to start cool-down stretches. Normally he would have tried to avoid acting like the team captain right now, not wanting to step on Futakuchi's toes, but he was starting to feel a little desperate.

"Maybe everyone should get some water?" he suggested, his voice sounding a little weaker than he'd like. His eyes found Futakuchi. "We could do a dynamic cooldown." He frowned and cleared his throat. Maybe that cold really was coming on.

Whatever had been on his face must have surprised Futakuchi because he didn't look like he wanted to complain. "Oh. Yeah sure," he said instead.

" _Hey!_ " Yasushi barked, straightening up. Kaname appreciated him jumping in to relay Kaname's words in speaker-mode, even if his headache didn't. "Get some water, people! We're moving into cooldown." 

" _I_ could have done that!" Futakuchi hissed at him.

"But ya _didn't_."

Kaname rubbed at his temples, trying to ease off the throbbing.

"Headache?" Takehito asked, drawing close in concern. 

"I'll be okay." Kaname tried to offer him a reassuring smile. 

"I got some painkillers in my locker." As he spoke, he handed Kaname his water bottle. 

"Thanks." Kaname took a sip, savoring the slide of coolness down his throat. "I'll let you know."

The painkillers did help his head, when he finally got them twenty minutes later. What they could not help however, was the dark cloud brewing between Futakuchi and Yasushi. They must both have been having a bad day outside of practice. They cut their teeth on each other all the time, but this feeling of genuine malice, that was rare. They managed to avoid looking at each other on the train though, Aone standing between them for good measure. They got to the Moniwa house without incident. Kaname took the win.

His parents had generously made themselves scarce so his team could use the house to throw him a party. It gave them an excuse for a date night, they said. The family would celebrate with him over the weekend, his cousins coming from the next town over. It was therefore kind of charming as his whole team called "thank you for having us!" to an empty house. Kaname smiled despite himself at the enthusiastic chorus. He loved these jackasses sometimes. 

His mom had left money for pizza on the table. He scooped it up and took out his phone to call the pizza place. Sakunami and Koganegawa had told him to not bother with the cake, insisting that they were gonna take care of it. Kaname agreed and told them that wherever they ended up getting the cake from, that they send him a selfie of the endeavor. Them doing anything together was bound to be precious. 

His teammates had sprawled themselves in various poses throughout the living room when he returned from his phone call. Kaname wondered if Aone had enlisted the help of the others or if they all just had developed an instinct for putting space between Yasushi and Futakuchi when they were fighting. Either way, they had been successfully relegated to opposite ends of the living room. They were currently avoiding eye contact so aggressively it was almost more obvious how hard it was to ignore each other. (And _boy_ , did Kaname have things to say about _that._ ) Everyone else, at least, looked pretty relaxed.

"Alright," Kaname said, regarding them all with a smile. "Who wants to play a game?"

Ten minutes into playing cards, he got a message from Sakunami. It was a picture of him and Kogane, with Sakunami holding the phone and Kogane standing in the background, cake box held high in the air in triumph. When he showed it to all the guys, they ooh'd and ahh'd appropriately.

"This is the only wholesome thing this team has ever produced," Nametsu said. She was seated on the arm of the couch near Obara. She handed Kaname's phone back to him as she spoke.

"This picture?" Kaname looked at the screen again.

"Sakunami."

"Honestly, that's fair," Takehito agreed. 

Sakunami and Kogane beat the pizza delivery guy back to the house. When Kaname opened the door for them, it seemed clear that Sakunami had been in the middle of wrestling Kogane back from hitting the buzzer a million times. 

"Do you like the cake senpai?" Kogane asked, opening the box eagerly. "It has mangos on it!"

That it did. "It's awesome guys," he told them with his warmest smile. "Thank you." He took the box in hand. "I'll put this in the kitchen, you guys head into the living room, okay?"

He had just set it in the fridge when a voice said, "Moniwa?" Turning he saw Onagawa, shuffling awkwardly in the kitchen's entryway. He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. "It's uh, Kamasaki and Futakuchi—"

 _Dammit._ Kaname smiled. "I'll deal with it. Thanks Onagawa," he said, already moving down the hallway. It was obvious where they had gotten tangled up. Yasushi was clearly in the middle of coming out of the bathroom as Futakuchi was trying to get in. Kaname wasn't sure what had started them off _this_ time but it never, ever took much. 

"—just call her back. Not everything is worth getting pissed at me over." Futakuchi was saying.

"Just because some of us actually got hugged as children—" Yasushi began. 

Futakuchi's eyes flared. Kaname sucked in a breath. "See _this_ is why you can't get a date," Futakuchi began.

"Guys!" Kaname snapped. He was still mostly at the end of the hallway. They both turned to look at him, guilty and a little mortified. Good. _Good._ Maybe now he'd have a chance to actually make them listen. He wracked his brain for something captainly, a learning moment, _anything._ But his headache was coming back and it was hard to think. When he did speak, his voice was wrung-out and tired. 

"For God's sake, you guys. It's my _birthday_."

He'd never seen two faces crumple so fast. "Moniwa-san," Futakuchi began at the same time Yasushi said, "Kaname—"

"Please. Just apologize to each other and let's go back to the party." He couldn't even work his usual persuasive tone into it. He really was getting a cold. 

Yasushi and Futakuchi looked at each other. "Sorry I interrupted you," Futakuchi mumbled.

"Yeah well." Yasushi scratched the back of his head. "Sorry I snapped at ya." 

And miracle of miracles, they filed quietly down the hallway, following Kaname back to the others. 

Later, when everyone had gather around him, and the candles on the cake had been lit, Kaname felt himself relax again. Not in a contented way, necessarily, but in a hopeful way. Futakuchi and Yasushi had called a truce for now. Maybe that meant they were going to get through the rest of the birthday party in peace. Maybe Kaname could just eat some cake without playing referee. 

As Kogane and Nametsu called for him to make a wish, Kaname's eyes found the far wall, where the sliding door into the side room was open. His grandma's picture had long since joined his grandpa's on the shrine. In his head, he made a wry face at her. 

_I wish Yasushi and Futakuchi would spend any time at all in each other's shoes._

He blew out the candles in one go. Everyone cheered him on.


	2. Yasushi's Special Ringtone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Futakuchi in this chapter calls Aone "Takano." It's read "ta-KA-no." You can pry the volleyball team being close friends from my cold dead hands.

Guitar music was playing. Yasushi's face scrunched up, groaning as he was forcibly dragged from sleep. What _was_ that? It seemed to be coming from near his ear. He swatted for it. His hand landed on the bedside table.

_...Bedside table?_

His eyes snapped open. 

It was like a bizarre case of sensory overload as his brain tried to process everything he saw all at once. The phone under his hand, with its yellow caution-tape phone case, wasn't his. The fucking _hand_ on his body wasn't his. It was too pale, too slender. His mind was failing as quickly as an old computer, getting cascading errors in response to every piece of information his eyes tried to feed him. 

He didn't sleep in a bed, he slept on a futon. He didn't have a bedside table to charge his phone on, it charged at his feet. The phone in his hand wasn't his. Did he already notice that? It was still freaking him out. Also. This goddamn hand. Wasn't. _His._

(Distantly, he was aware that some part of his mind recognized this phone case. Knew this hand, this arm. The knowledge felt like it was being shouted at him from 100 kilometers away.)

The music was an alarm, or a ringtone maybe. He turned the phone over and looked at the screen. _Incoming call: Kamasaki-san._ He jabbed his thumb against the screen violently. It was either take this call, or throw up.

"Who is this?" he growled, sitting up in the bed. His voice didn't sound right. Of course it didn't. 

"Kamasaki-san?" his own voice greeted him.

"Who. Is this."

"It's Futakuchi. Listen, are you dressed?" Even over the phone, even from three lines, his, that was Yasushi's, voice sounded wrong. It sounded clipped and dismissive in a way he never was. 

"Am I what?" He surveyed himself. Old sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt. "Uh, no, I guess not."

"You might wanna get there. I'm going to be knocking on the door in like five minutes."

"What the fuck is happening?" He swung his legs over the side of the bed. They were as long as he was used to but paler and thinner. Less hair too.

_Probably not the most helpful thing to notice right now._

"I don't know," Futakuchi's version of Yasushi continued. "But if you haven't looked in the mirror yet, you might want to do that too." Abruptly, he hung up. 

Yasushi was left staring down at the screen. The phone had gone back to being locked. The background was some sketch of a cityscape he didn't recognize. Slowly, his thumb (well, the thumb) swiped open the camera app. Futakuchi Kenji's big brown eyes widened at him. 

" _Holy mother of fuck,_ " Futakuchi's voice whispered. He stared at himself a minute longer. Then he returned the phone to the bedside table and stood up. A weird calm was settling over him. 

Futakuchi, it seemed, was the kind of preppy asshole who laid out his clothes the night before. His tracksuit was waiting over the back of his chair. Yasushi stripped methodically, letting the pajamas fall to the floor. He was unembarrassed to stand in Futakuchi's naked body seeing as they'd seen each other in the showers a billion times. And besides. If Futakuchi was really in Yasushi's body right now, then he'd definitely already gotten an eyeful. Yasushi slept naked. 

There were muffled voices down the stairs. _Well, that brat did say he was comin' over._ Yasushi dressed faster. His mind was starting to offer up maybe the only theory it could.

When the rapid knock came on his door, Yasushi was ready. He yanked it open. Futakuchi, wearing _his_ body, was standing on the other side. Yasushi glared. "Are we in hell?"

He was immediately treated to the bizarre experience of watching his own face make Futakuchi's expressions. It was like reading Japanese that had been put through Google translate. Maybe that was why it was painfully obvious that Futakuchi was thinking and discarding a hundred sarcastic comments before he finally settled on, "I don't know. It's not like any hell I've ever heard of." Then he was knocking past Yasushi, barging his way into the room. Yasushi, unused to the lack of resistance Futakuchi's slimmer body offered, went stumbling back.

"I need my phone," Futakuchi muttered, swiping it off the bed. "Here," he added, dropping Yasushi's own phone onto the sheets. Turning, he frowned. "Comb my hair," he ordered.

"Your Highness mind tellin' me where he keeps his comb?" Damn, but growling sounded so different in Futakuchi's voice. He was like a fantasy villain.

"Bathroom. Hurry up. It takes longer to get to school from my house." 

"You're so damn bossy," Yasushi muttered, but he allowed Futakuchi to lead him into the bathroom. It was a tight fit with two of them but Futakuchi shut the door anyway. Yasushi eyed him warily. 

"So..." Futakuchi began, leaning back against the door. "Did you make any wishes at a shrine lately? Talk to any creepy-looking old people on the way home by any chance?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" There was a plain black comb on the side of the sink. Yasushi picked it up and made a few passes over his hair. 

"I'm trying to figure out how we got into this mess." His face looked a lot bitchier with Futakuchi wearing it. Yasushi hadn't even known his eyebrow _could_ twitch like that. "You think we're in hell right?" Futakuchi demanded. "But we didn't die yesterday did we? I feel like any idiot would remember their own death."

"Pretty bad odds both of us dying in our sleep, I guess," Yasushi allowed. He focused on his current face in the mirror in order to stave off a creeping wave of panic. Futakuchi didn't look like he had to shave that often. The skin of his face was largely smooth when Yasushi brushed his fingers over it.

"I should fucking say so— _What_ are you doing?" Futakuchi demanded.

"Checking to see if you need a shave. Ungrateful brat." He straightened up and examined his own face where Futakuchi stood, pressed back against the door. "You didn't shave me before you left the house, did you? That's not gonna look good come the end of school today."

"Excuse me for having other things on my mind," Futakuchi muttered. "Brush your teeth. We need to go."

"Fine but you need to get out. I need to piss." 

There it was again. He saw his own face contort as Futakuchi fought with himself about wanting to make some kinda snappy comment (probably something about how he'd seen himself piss a million times). Just like before, he decided it wasn't worth it and stepped out.

Yasushi took a deep breath. And then another. Once he'd finished on the toilet, he splashed cold water on his face. _Yeah,_ he told himself. _Yeah, okay. This is pretty fucking messed up, but you gotta keep it together. You ain't hurt, are ya? You still got food and clothes and a bed to sleep in. Head up, Kamasaki. One step at a time._

With one more deep breath, he opened the door to the hallway. Futakuchi was leaning against the wall, looking at his phone. 

"Which toothbrush is yours?" Yasushi asked him. 

"Dark green."

"Got it."

They coexisted in sullen silence as Yasushi brushed his teeth. They barely spoke as Futakuchi led the way downstairs and got his lunch from the fridge. There were a bunch of onigiri in the door as well. "Here," he muttered, shoving two at Yasushi. "We'll eat while we walk."

Futakuchi had morning practice to get to, of course. The team had to get ready for the final round of the qualifiers for Spring High, come end of October. _At least middle blocker and wing spiker got a lot of transferable skills between them,_ Yasushi mused. Then a cold wave of dread washed over him. "Shit."

Futakuchi frowned at him around a mouthful of rice. "What?"

"No it's nothing, just..." Yasushi wrestled with himself for a moment. His brain just had too much to process. "We're gonna look for a way to fix this, I'm assuming?" 

"Obviously."

"Before graduation?"

Futakuchi squinted. "...Yes?"

Might as well bite the bullet. Pride didn't really factor in a bizarre-ass situation like this. "You're planning on playing ball in university, right?"

"That's right." He watched Futakuchi's eyes slowly go wide, already getting where Yasushi was going. He'd always been a sharp one. 

"You're a better player than me," Yasushi said, for the sake of completing his thought. _Damn_ , but those words were bitter. He made himself continue. "College scouts can forgive an average season, but we gotta switch us back before I graduate. Get you back in the saddle and doin' your thing, right?" He gestured vaguely between them, encompassing both their bodies. In any other circumstances he would never admit that he couldn't play volleyball like Futakuchi could. But as it was, if this trip to hell lasted long enough, it could start messing with the guy's future. Futakuchi didn't deserve that. Yasushi needed to face those facts head on, grown-up like. 

Futakuchi was looking at him oddly. Yasushi frowned.

"What?"

"Are you _sure_ that's Kamasaki-san in there?" he asked. "That sounded almost considerate."

Yasushi growled, the movie-villain growl. His hand snaked out and pinched Futakuchi in the side, hard. Futakuchi yelped, jumping about a meter in the air. Yasushi laughed and laughed. Futakuchi might've currently had the size advantage, but Yasushi still knew his body's weak points. "Ungrateful brat," he said. 

Still, he had to admit, as he opened the second onigiri, this was probably the one day he wasn't gonna fault Futakuchi for being so bitchy. 

Futakuchi had already finished his and was in the process of licking his fingers. "Okay so," he said. "We need to tell each other what we need to know. Like, who do you eat lunch with? Who are your friends? Stuff like that."

"Solid plan," Yasushi admitted. He hummed, looking up at the sky as he thought. "'Kay well, I eat lunch with Moniwa and Sasaya and some of the others. You're gonna wanna go with Shimazaki to their classro—"

"Wait, wait," Futakuchi groaned, getting out his phone. "I should write this down." 

They spent the walk to the train dictating to each other the little details of their days. Privately, Yasushi had to admit he was impressed with Futakuchi's foresight. He himself probably wouldn't have thought to organize it like this. Kaname had been the brains of the whole captain-vice captain deal. Yasushi had been the enforcer, the bad cop. He was good at that. 

As they arrived at the station, he pulled out Futakuchi's wallet and dug around for his pass. He had more cash on hand than Futakuchi did and that wasn't gonna do at all. "Gimme my money." Yasushi said, once they had gotten through the turnstiles. "And I want my credit card." It was an emergencies-only kinda thing but his dad still got notified of any charges. Like hell he was leaving that with Futakuchi.

"Fine. But we leave our IDs."

"Obviously. I'm not stupid." 

Futakuchi smirked at him. Their 3cm height difference was more noticeable from down here somehow. He wondered if it ever pissed Futakuchi off as much as it was pissing him off right now. "You know when you say things like that, it just leaves you wide open for me to comment on, right?"

"You're so lucky I don't have any plans to hit myself in the face today." Something occurred to him, grinding his irritation to an abrupt halt. "...Uh. Hey. I know we ain't usually on the friendliest terms but we should probably at least _try_ a little teamwork, you know? We're in this together, at least for the next little while."

Futakuchi's gaze looked a little distant, then a little uncomfortable. "Yeah," he admitted. "I guess we are."

"Truce?" Yasushi held out his hand. Futakuchi eyed it with a raised eyebrow. Then he took it.

"Temporary truce."

"You really had to go and add the 'temporary' part huh?" Their train was arriving. Yasushi stepped inside, carefully giving the pregnant lady ahead of him as much space as he could carve out so she could get to the courtesy seats.

"Compromises should be realistic, Kamasaki-san." The doors closed behind them. The sheer volume of the other passengers pressed their bodies against each other, cutting off any retort Yasushi would make.

It was probably going to be easier to ignore his dick like this, he realized as the train started to move. He didn't have to be so aware of the fact that Futakuchi was a good-looking guy if he didn't have to _see_ the guy anymore right? The only time he was really going to get a look at himself was in the mirror or showering. That was hardly any time at all. Futakuchi was currently living in Yasushi's body, which meant that the only weapon he had to wield right now was his bratty personality. And _there_ was a silver lining because the personality was easily the worst thing about him. It wasn't often that life gave you a time-out from being attracted to someone, and Yasushi was gonna enjoy it while it lasted. 

Them arriving at practice together raised a few eyebrows. The third years still came to practice sometimes, sure, but they never came to morning practice. And Futakuchi and Yasushi _never_ went anywhere together. Fortunately, they both had a similar reaction to getting stared at—staring right back. Yasushi spared a thought for the way Futakuchi would do it, eyes hooded, mouth set in the ghost of a smirk. It was easy to recreate. He'd definitely seen it enough times. In front of him, Futakuchi walked with a pretty passable imitation of his own swagger.

Then the door to the locker rooms opened, revealing Aone. Futakuchi went stiff as a board. 

"Morning!" he said in a voice way too bright to belong to Yasushi. He was moving again, slinking past Aone into the locker rooms. His posture had gone guilty. 

Aone fixed Yasushi with a _look._ Yasushi didn't know what it meant. He and Aone got along well enough but Futakuchi was the only one Aone could do the whole silent conversation thing with. Yasushi was about to try for a simple "Hey," when Futakuchi's hand snaked out and grabbed him, taking advantage of his newly superior strength to drag Yasushi forcibly into the locker rooms.

"Fucking fuck, _fuck_ ," Futakuchi hissed, shoving Yasushi inside before Yasushi could fully process what was happening. He found himself with his back to the lockers, Futakuchi crowding close. Weirdly, it felt like Futakuchi was trying to _hide_ him. 

"What?"

"You can't talk to Takano. Aone, I mean. You can't talk to him."

Yasushi's eyes widened, because Futakuchi wasn't so much saying ' _you aren't allowed to talk to Aone'_ as he was ' _you don't know_ _how_ _to talk to Aone.'_

"He's gonna think you're ignoring him," Futakuchi continued, glancing over his shoulder towards the door. "Or messing with him, which is fucking worse." He turned back and looked Yasushi full in the face. Yasushi took a breath in. Futakuchi looked actually... upset. At thought of hurting his best friend, Futakuchi sounded almost... _miserable._ Maybe Yasushi shouldn't have been surprised by that, but he was.

"We have to tell him," Futakuchi said. 

"Is he gonna believe us?" Yasushi asked.

"I can make him," Futakuchi promised. "I can. I just need to talk to him." Yasushi stared at the look of relief that was washing over his face. 

"Okay," he agreed slowly. "After practice."

"Yeah." Futakuchi stepped back from him. His mask of unaffectedness fell back over Yasushi's face. "Obviously."

 _Fucking bizarre,_ Yasushi thought for about the millionth time that morning. On his actual face, Futakuchi's uncaring expression made him look like the unobtainable jock. On Yasushi, he just looked like he was here to mug someone. 

Practice was weird. There was no getting around that. Everyone was giving them weird looks. Coach Oiwake gave 'Kamasaki' an earful about making up his mind whether or not he was quitting, but eventually let him on the court to play, growling, "Give them some spikes to really test that block against."

Playing in a body that wasn't his had to be the weirdest part of the whole damn day so far. He had already known he didn't have Futakuchi's game sense. That hadn't changed and he hadn't really expected it to. But Futakuchi's reflexes were just a little smoother, his whole frame a little more agile. It was just a bit easier to get this body to respond how he wanted it to.

Goddamn, was this how it was for Futakuchi _all the time?_ No wonder he was an arrogant little prick on the court. This smooth handling would go to anybody's head. 

(He was also really, _really_ flexible and Yasushi didn't know how to feel about that. It seemed he'd miscalculated the whole 'break from being attracted' thing. He'd already been vaguely aware that Futakuchi was kinda bendy, but experiencing it first-hand was _so much worse_. Maybe he could ignore it through sheer stubbornness.)

The first time he stuffed-blocked Futakuchi _as_ Futakuchi was unreal. They stared at each other for a moment when their feet hit the gym floor again. Then Yasushi grinned, shark-like. "Still adjusting?"

"You should be _thanking_ me," Futakuchi returned snidely. ' _For the superior body,'_ went unsaid but they both heard it loud and clear.

Yasushi scowled. "Bite me."

Wearing Futakuchi's body at practice meant he was team captain for the day. Good thing he had plenty of vice-captain experience. Futakuchi's style of boosting morale involved making everyone get loud, and Yasushi could deliver on that. What he lacked in snide remarks, he more than made up for in a loud bark. He was aware though, that their leadership styles were ultimately different. Problem was, he couldn't make up all the difference _and_ focus on the game.

"You're in a weird mood today," Obara commented during a water break. "You were kind of pissy yesterday too."

"Can you blame me?" Yasushi muttered. "Two straight fuckin' days of that guy." He titled his chin towards Futakuchi, at the far end of the bench.

Obara looked at him oddly. Yasushi blinked at him. _What?_ No comment he made about hating Yasushi could be that out of character, right?

"Did you forget to jerk it this morning?" Obara asked, out of nowhere. Yasushi's eyebrows jumped. 

"I mighta forgot," he said. "Why?" _Also, who has time to jerk off in the_ _morning? _

"Maybe you should do that when you get home," Obara suggested. His voice was weirdly sly. "Probably help the frustration."

Yasushi snorted. "No argument here."

Damnit, Obara was looking at him weird again. "You sure?" he asked. "You're not gonna fight me on it? Even a little bit?"

Yasushi stared at him, looking for some clue. What had he said wrong _now?_ Maybe he was just really sucking at saying things the way Futakuchi would say them. "What could I possibly have to fight you on?" he asked, aiming for that smooth tone Futakuchi had that always pissed him off. "I don't know what you mean." For good measure, he tossed his bangs a bit.

 _Jackpot._ Obara rolled his eyes, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "There you are," he said. "I see we're playing dumb today."

"It's hard for me to play dumb," Yasushi said. He was on a roll now. "It doesn't come natural to me, you know that."

"Yeah, yeah." Obara put his water bottle back down. "Let's get 'em back on the court."

After practice, Yasushi managed to drag Futakuchi to the locker room sinks before anyone else could get at him. This was great because in the first place, they bought themselves a few minutes before they had to confront Aone. And in the second place, Futakuchi really needed to shave him.

Futakuchi of course, was an ungrateful brat who did not appreciate his actions.

"We _never_ go anywhere together," he hissed as Yasushi practically shoved him against the sink counter.

"That ship done sailed," Yasushi growled back. "Everyone saw us show up together."

"We can do damage control later," Futakuchi insisted. "As long as you don't keep making it weird."

"Will you just shut your trap and listen?" Yasushi was actively trying to keep his volume down because Aone was already eyeing them suspiciously from across the room. If he thought they were fighting, he'd be over here in a second. "You gotta shave me, and we gotta plan. Two birds, one stone, okay?"

"Do I have _time_ to shave you?" 

Yasushi had grabbed his real backpack on the way over to the sinks. "It doesn't take that fuckin' long if you know what you're doing." Digging around in a side-pocket, he found the travel pouch of emergency toiletries. Deodorant, antiperspirant, all that jazz. Yasushi wasn't much for primping but puberty was no cakewalk. He had to keep this shit on hand in self-defense. "You know how to shave, right?" he asked. 

"Of course I do!" Futakuchi insisted.

This face-swap thing just might have had some benefits yet. Yasushi was really enjoying being able to tell when the bastard was lying. "You don't, do you?"

Futakuchi glared right back. "I just said I do. Shouldn't you have a little more faith in people, _Futakuchi?_ " 

"You're lying. You can't hide it as well on my face."

"It's not my fault you're a shitty liar."

"Yeah, 'cause I _don't lie_. Can't believe you're trying to fault me for that." Yasushi enjoyed the smug feeling that was washing over him. Maybe if Futakuchi was playing with one hand tied behind his back like this, it'd be possible for Yasushi to finally, _finally_ figure out what the goddamn hell went on in his head.

"Oh shut up," Futakuchi muttered. "Let's just get this over with. Aone's waiting for you."

He was just in the middle of slathering his skin with the shaving gel Yasushi carried in his kit when Aone decided he was done waiting. It was inevitable. Even if he didn't need to break up any fights at the moment, Aone and Futakuchi were joined at the hip anyway. 

Yasushi was relieved to find that he understood the questioning noise Aone made as he approached. "Learning how to shave," Yasushi told him, because it was basically true. Aone frowned, perhaps more confused by this explanation. Well, Yasushi couldn't blame him. Even if Futakuchi did need to shave ever, Yasushi was the last person he'd pick to teach him and they all knew it.

"Couldn't you just look this up on the internet?" Futakuchi sniped, which of course meant ' _Couldn't_ _I just look this up on the internet?' _Regardless, he wet the razor as he spoke, carefully dragging it down the corners of his top lip. 

"What, and miss out on some quality customer service?" Yasushi shot back. In the spirit of acting or whatever, he made sure to bat those doe eyes in the infuriating way Futakuchi had.

"Yassun?"

"Yeah?" Yasushi turned.

And realized his mistake.

Kaname was standing there, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. They only got slightly wider as Yasushi looked at him. _Shit._ Futakuchi hadn't noticed. He probably wasn't thinking, didn't realize he needed to react to 'Yassun.' Hell, Yasushi had forgotten he himself _shouldn't._

"Yassun," Kaname said again, his expression hardening. Futakuchi still didn't turn. 

"Moniwa-san," Yasushi said, to help the guy out. Kaname had that way too canny expression he got sometimes. Beside him, Futakuchi stiffened and finally looked.

"Kaname, hey!" It sounded too bright to be Yasushi again. At least he didn't trip on Kaname's name.

"What's going on?" Yasushi asked. "Shouldn't you be getting to class?"

"I could ask you both the same thing." Kaname looked between them. "Nametsu texted me. She said you guys were acting weird." Beside him, Aone nodded his agreement.

"We all have our days," Futakuchi said. 

Kaname was still staring and Yasushi was starting to get nervous. He could tell by the way Futakuchi was shifting next to him that he was getting nervous too. Kaname began to chew on his bottom lip and Yasushi knew that face. It meant he was weighing his words, trying to decide what to say.

"I had a weird dream last night," he began finally. His eyes flitted between the two of them. "I dreamed my grandma told me to get you two to show me your phones."

Silence. Coulda heard a pin drop. 

"...Well that's weird," Futakuchi said finally. "Wonder what it mea—" 

"You should get your phone out," Kaname interrupted.

Futakuchi blinked. "What?"

"Show me your phone." Kaname's eyes fell to Futakuchi's pocket. 

Futakuchi looked extremely reluctant and Yasushi couldn't really blame him. Still, Yasushi had learned that it was just better sometimes to go with what Kaname said. He could be neurotic but he was a smart cookie. He had a reason for most of the things he did. With that in mind, Yasushi reached into the pocket of 'Futakuchi Kenji's' uniform pants and drew out Kamasaki Yasushi's phone. Aone's eyes widened in surprise.

"Holy shit," Kaname breathed. Yasushi could practically see the cogs turning in his head. "Give each other your phones back," Kaname ordered. 

They looked at each other uncertainly. 

"Just do it," Kaname said. "Please guys? I want to see something."

Reluctantly, Futakuchi dug out his own phone. They swapped.

"Now unlock them," Kaname ordered.

"What?" Futakuchi said.

"Say what?" Yasushi said.

"I'm serious. If everything is normal, unlock your own phones." Kaname had gotten that look he wore sometimes, his version of the Captain Face. Yasushi had never been more afraid of him.

He looked at Futakuchi as if to say ' _now what?'_ Futakuchi sighed, and held Yasushi's phone up to the light. He squinted at the screen for a second, and then swiped his thumb over the unlock pattern. 

" _What the fuck?_ " Yasushi breathed before he could stop himself. "How the hell did you do that?"

"The oil from your fingerprints stays on the screen," Futakuchi said. "You can see people's unlock pattern that way." He glanced at Kaname and Aone guiltily before muttering, "How did you _think_ I called you this morning?" 

Yasushi had not been in the state to think this morning at _all_. He settled for glaring.

"What's going on?" Aone rumbled. Beside him, Kaname seemed to be going non-verbal. His eyes just kept darting between Futakuchi and Yasushi like ping pong balls. 

Futakuchi stared at Aone, thinking. "Might as well do this," he muttered, mostly to himself before addressing his best friend. "Ask me something Kamasaki wouldn't know. Something about you or Futakuchi."

Aone frowned. He had a great face for frowning, Yasushi had always thought. He looked like an angry troll. "What is going _on?_ " he repeated.

"Just do it Takano," Futakuchi said. "We don't have all day, alright?"

Aone tilted his head. "...How did Futakuchi and I become friends?" he asked finally.

Futakuchi laughed, the look on his face almost fond. Yasushi stared at it. "We sat next to each other in fifth grade. The girls behind us were talking shit about you. I told them off and the teacher sent me to the principal's office for it." 

"What did everyone _say?_ " Aone pressed. 

Futakuchi's fond smile turned wicked. "One of the girls said you looked 'exotic' and the other one said, 'my sister says that's a nice way of calling someone freaky.' And I turned around and said, 'he has albinism, you odious bitch.'" 

Yasushi barked a laugh. "That is _awesome._ " 

Futakuchi grinned at him. “Right?”

Aone's eyes were drilling into Futakuchi's head. 

"In _fifth grade?_ " Kaname said. "Aren't you _eleven_ in fifth grade?"

Futakuchi shrugged. "I was a precocious child."

The bell rang; they all jumped.

"Shit _fuck,_ " Yasushi said. "We gotta shave you." Reaching out, he maneuvered Futakuchi so the small of his back was against the skin counter. "Razor," he demanded, holding out his hand.

"Uh." Futakuchi looked a little caught off guard. "Okay." He handed it over. 

"Are we in a teen movie?" Kaname muttered, as Yasushi wet the razor blade and began to make long, efficient strokes over Futakuchi's face. He looked a little green. "Did my grandma think high school is too boring for me? Is that it?"

"Your grandma?" Aone asked. Kaname patted him on the arm distractedly.

"I really hope you believe in magic, Aone."

"Hey, speaking of phones," Yasushi murmured, voice going a little quiet in his concentration. "What the hell is my ringtone on your phone?"

Aone snorted. Yasushi glanced at him in suspicion. "Don't worry about it," Futakuchi told him, in a breezy tone that meant Yasushi definitely _was_ gonna worry about it. 

"Guys," Kaname implored. "We have to get to class."

"Go," Yasushi said, his hands already back at work. "No point in all four of us being late." 

Kaname hesitated. 

" _Go,_ " Yasushi repeated. "We can talk at lunch."

Slowly, Kaname nodded. "Come on," he told Aone, turning to leave. Aone remained unmoved.

"It's okay Aone," Yasushi said. "I got your boy."

"Don't say that," Futakuchi mumbled. "It sounds weird when you say that." But he leaned away from the razor long enough to add, "Go, Takano. I'll see you at lunch." It was this that finally got Aone to let Kaname pull him away, the expression on his face stoically confused. The rest of the locker room had long since cleared. 

Alone with Futakuchi again, Yasushi fell back to work in silence. This was no time for yakking; they had to get this done. He gently turned Futakuchi's head to the side, scraping the razor over his jaw. Futakuchi had gone weirdly still. Maybe he was worried about getting nicked. That was fair. Yasushi had plenty of experience shaving himself but very little experience shaving other people. At least it wasn't a huge adjustment. 

Also, he was definitely glad they had swapped bodies right now. There was no way that being practically front-to-front with Futakuchi Kenji would leave him unaffected otherwise. 

"Okay," he sighed, finally stepping away. "You're good. Wash your face." 

"Finally," Futakuchi sighed dramatically, turning back to the sink. "We're so late," he added before cupping water to his face. 

"Not like you could have gone any faster," Yasushi muttered, shoving all his stuff back into his emergency toiletries kit, before shoving the whole thing at Futakuchi. "You're gonna need this." He was starting to feel vaguely nervous. _Head up, Kamasaki,_ he reminded himself. _Just get to lunch._

Futakuchi shouldered his backpack. He was probably trying to be quiet about it, but Yasushi could hear him take a deep breath in. "You ready, pretty boy?"

"It doesn't count if you call _yourself_ a pretty boy," Yasushi said, starting for the exit. Futakuchi scoffed and shoved open the door to the locker rooms. 

"Showtime."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in two days? Ha, whoops. I wanted to put out the prologue and the first chapter really close together so I waited till I had basically finished the first chapter to upload the prologue. I definitely will not be keeping that upload pace up lol
> 
> (Oh yeah, also: That fingerprint hack for phones, strictly speaking, does work, but you need a really good sample to do it. I was definitely taking artistic liberties there.)


	3. Kenji Receives a Confession

Problem: Kamasaki was _big._ In every sense of the word. Kenji was tall, but this bastard was _thick._ He outweighed Kenji by 15 kilos. He was apparently hungry _all the time._ Kenji was a constantly-hungry teenage boy too, but this? This was actually unreal. He desperately hoped all the protein bars in the bottom of Kamasaki's bag were going to get him through to lunch, because the onigiri he'd had this morning had evaporated from his stomach.

(Also, Kenji's own dick was a decent size but Kamasaki's was _actually massive_ and he was kind of trying not to think about it.)

"Kamasaki!" the homeroom teacher barked as he slunk into the room. "You're late."

"Sorry," he muttered. The entire class had turned to look at him.

"You're not on the volleyball team anymore," she chastised him. "You don't have that excuse anymore. So why were you late?"

Well, there was nothing for it. "...Volleyball," he admitted. He scratched at the back of his head the way Kamasaki would sometimes. "Just… helpin' out."

"Maybe you can take that same energy and apply it to your grades," the teacher suggested curtly. "They certainly could use some 'helping out.'" She jerked her head to the one empty desk. "Take your seat."

 _Damn, what'd Kamasaki ever do to her?_ Kenji thought as he slunk over to the desk. The girl next to him gave him a sympathetic look through the short curtain of her black hair. Kenji recognized her as Shimazaki, captain of the women's soccer team. She had deep blue eyes, though one seemed perpetually hidden behind her bangs. She also had the thickest muscles he'd ever seen on a teenage girl. Apparently, she was Kamasaki's best friend.

"Yamanoi-sensei's in one of her moods again," she muttered as he settled in.

"I can tell," he muttered back. 

It was kind of fun to have a classroom buddy, Kenji quickly discovered. He got along fine with everyone in his own class but Shimazaki and Kamasaki were _actually_ friends. Whenever Kenji found himself completely lost during lessons (which was often), he could look at Shimazaki and expect a commiserating look in return. She sat with the same posture Kamasaki did (Kenji was not going to think too hard about why he could pick Kamasaki's _posture_ out of a line-up), her legs spread, arms folded. When they did it at the same time, the teacher gave them suspicious looks. 

' _Your homeroom buddy is a girl, huh?_ ' Kenji had jabbed on the train this morning. ' _Color me shocked, Kamasaki-san. Is she cute?_ '

Kamasaki had laughed in his face. ' _Don't get ahead of yourself. I'm not her type and neither are you._ '

' _Oh yeah_ ?' Kenji had leered at him. ' _Why not?'_

' _Well, we're both guys for starters. Which I am_ _only telling you,' _ He'd punctuated this with a threatening finger in Kenji's face. ' _Cuz you're supposed to know it already.'_

Now that he mentioned it, and now that Kenji was seeing Shimazaki up close, it was ringing some bells for him. He remembered hearing last year about a member of the girls' soccer team who didn't date guys. It had apparently caused a pretty big stir in the upperclassmen, though if Kamasaki was buddy-buddy with her, it clearly wasn't a big deal to him. That knowledge did not soothe something in Kenji's chest. It didn't.

"Hey," Shimazaki said, turning to him in the break between classes. "How's your mom?" 

Kenji frowned. _Mom?_ "Same as before," he settled on. It seemed safe. 

Shimazaki _tsk'd_ , but thankfully dropped it. "You got an extra snack?"

At her question, his stomach let out a loud gurgle. People turned to look at him. She threw back her head and laughed. "Whoops," Kenji deadpanned, digging into his desk, where he had discovered yet another stash of protein bars. _Does Kamasaki have a sponsorship or something? Geez._ "Here," he said, taking one out. Breaking it in half, he gave her a piece.

"Thanks Kamacchi."

"Any time." It was kind of endearing to think about Kamasaki engaging in this easy camaraderie with someone. Then, with a frown, Kenji took this thought and dragged it to the trash. It wasn't endearing he told himself, because all it did was remind him that Kamasaki was really chill around people who were not Kenji. 

Also Kenji, as someone in a college-prep class, was in the minority in Date Tech. Most of the kids were being streamed to go into the trades whereas Kenji was doing trade-adjacent stuff. Practical university co-op kinda stuff. Now, being the closest thing Date Tech had to a nerd didn't have to mean he was bad at the hands-on stuff, like shop class. No, no. Him being bad at shop class was just a _coincidence_. 

Problem was, Kamasaki was great at shop. Wood shop, metal shop, auto shop. Didn't matter. Kenji surveyed the lay of the woodshop in a mild panic. _Fuck_.

"Aren't you supposed to be helping Mashiba?" Shimazaki grunted, jerking her chin at what was apparently Kamasaki's project partner, standing in the corner over the beginnings of a table. A table that was _definitely_ beyond anything Kenji could make.

Kenji groaned. All Kamasaki had said about this class was, ' _For woodshop, you gotta work with Mashiba. He sucks and I hate him.'_ It was a review that was as ominous as it was unhelpful. 

Shimazaki at least, seemed to sympathize. "Good luck, champ," she said, turning away to put her name down for the table saw. 

Mashiba looked up at him as he approached. He played small forward on the basketball team. He was probably about average height, and handsome in a boy-next-door way. Kenji had heard some of the girls in his own grade giggling about him. "Hey Kamacchi," Mashiba said in a neutral tone. "What do you need me to measure today?"

 _Shit._ Kenji didn't even _begin_ to know how to answer that question. "Let me think," he said, playing for time as he cast a hasty eye over their project. If the third years' shop class assignments were weighted the same way they were in second year, this project was going to be worth like 30% of their final grade. Kamasaki, that fucking prick, had the nerve to be making a table that required so much technical skill that Kenji wasn't even sure what half the already-crafted parts were supposed to _be_. Like, what was that plastic bin of tiny wooden rectangles for? 

_Get a grip,_ he told himself. _You're smart. You can at least figure out what he was going for even if you can't replicate it._

Carefully, he picked up what appeared to be one of the legs. It was segmented, a checkered pattern of lighter and darker woods. The pieces were curved, which meant Kamasaki must've spent a lot of time working them on the lathe. Kenji gave another internal groan. He _hated_ the lathe.

"Bad brain day over there?" Mashiba asked, in a light, cheery voice. Kenji side-eyed him. He knew that tone of voice was an asshole voice because it was the same kind of asshole voice Kenji himself tended to use.

"Just debating how to make you do some real work for once," he returned, equally as cheery. It wasn't how Kamasaki would have responded, but fuck it. 

"Feel like this is a pretty fair way to split the workload," Mashiba returned. "I'm already pretty busy with basketball practice you know."

Kenji narrowed his eyes. "I literally came from volleyball practice this morning."

"Yeah, but you're not on the team anymore," Mashiba explained, as though Kenji was deliberately being stupid. "Us third years on the basketball team are still preparing for our spring tournament, because no offense or anything, we actually have a shot."

It was a good thing that Kenji had a lot of experience not letting on when he was getting annoyed because he was rapidly getting there now. Mashiba didn't know anything. He hadn't been there to hear Kenji's upperclassmen crying in the hallway after their loss to Karasuno. Kenji put on his most annoyingly innocent smile and prayed Kamasaki's face could pull it off. "Oh ri-iiight, you can put a ball through a hoop real good so you get to slack off in class! Of course, my bad."

Mashiba stared at him like he'd grown another head. "You're bitchy today."

"You must be rubbing off on me." Abruptly Kenji turned and yanked the carton of little wooden rectangles off the cubby shelf. "Make me more of these."

Mashiba accepted the carton from him with an expression that was somewhere between a squint and a frown. "I thought you said you had enough already."

"I changed my mind." 

Mashiba continued to look suspicious but in the end, it seemed he didn't know enough about this project either. "...How many more do you need?"

"'Till the end of class should be enough." Kenji looked at him, impassive. His own impassive face was pretty terrifying, but Kamasaki's looked like he was actually ready to fight. Hopefully Mashiba would feel that pressure.

He must have. He turned away, carton tucked to his chest. "Fine. Sounds great." He made his way across the shop to where the various lengths of plywood were kept. 

Kenji became aware of Shimazaki giving him a weird look from across the shop. ' _What can you do,'_ he told her with his expression, the same way he would have done with Takanobu. 

She huffed, but tilted her head, eyebrow ticking up as if to say, ' _I know, right.'_ Then she turned back to the task at hand.

Finally alone to his own devices, Kenji turned back to the beginnings of Kamasaki's table. Without much hope, he searched the nearby cubbies for project notes. Of course, he came up empty. 

_You're killing me, Kamasaki-san._

Still. If Kamasaki didn't have any notes...Looking around, he approached the shop teacher, a tough old bird named Sakura. "Sensei," he said. "I wanna make some notes. Can I get my notebook from my locker?"

Sakura peered up at him from where he'd been checking the sand-blaster. "Be quick," he grunted. And Kenji made a break for it. Fortunately, pretty much everyone was in class and there was no one to see a third year opening a locker in the second-year hallway. 

Feeling equal parts foolish and relieved, he managed to spend the rest of class noting down the proportions of everything Kamasaki had done so far, going so far as to draw thumbnail sketches of each part in the margins. Hell, he even wrote down the types of woods used (he'd had to take his best guess here since he couldn't ID this stuff on sight, using the available types from the supply area). One way or another, he managed to look busy until the bell rang for lunch. 

" _Finally_ ," he muttered to himself, brushing past Mashiba and falling into step with Shimazaki. She was looking at him funny again.

"Was that _slacking_ I saw, Kamacchi?" she asked as the hallways filled with students.

"Bad brain day," he muttered, borrowing Mashiba's words and hating himself slightly for it. 

Fortunately, Shimazaki seemed to take this in stride. "Happens to the best of us."

With a slight smile, he recalled the nickname Kamasaki had told him to use. "Thanks, Zakkun."

As they headed toward 'their' lockers, Kenji internally debated how best to shake her off so she didn't have to watch him fail to know the combination for Kamasaki's lock. He was about to open his mouth to tell her to go on ahead, he had to piss or something, when a voice behind them called, "Kamasaki-kun?" They both turned. In his peripheral, Kenji saw Shimazaki startle slightly.

"Kado-chan?" she asked.

Kenji took in the girl standing in front of them. She was tiny, probably 155cm at most, her hair in two short, cute, blonde braids. Her hands were tucked behind her back and the effect of her big black eyes as she looked up, up, up at Kamasaki was powerful. "What's up?" he asked, as neutrally as possible.

"Could I speak to you for a moment in private?"

_Oh. OH._

"Sure," he said easily, because body-swap or no, Futakuchi Kenji did not stumble over his words. Still, as she led him around the corner, he chanced a look back at Shimazaki, shooting her a look that he hoped conveyed, ' _What am I supposed to do here?'_ Did Kamasaki like this girl? Did Kamasaki like _anyone?_

Shimazaki stared back, eyes just as wide, both of them visible behind her hair for once. She looked just as lost as he felt. _Great._

There wasn't much privacy to be found with the entire student body milling in the hallways for lunch, but the girl called Kado-chan picked her quiet way up the stairs to the landing that led to the roof. The admin guarded roof access pretty jealously, so no student really had a reason to come up here. It was quiet. When they both reached the final landing, Kado-chan stopped. Turning, she looked up at him again. Her eyes were _really_ pretty. 

"Kamasaki-kun," she began. "We've been friends for a while."

"Yeah," Kenji agreed easily. "We have." Kamasaki was damn lucky Kenji had had plenty of confessions of his own. If this was Kamasaki's first confession from a girl ever, Kenji was gonna show him how it was done. 

_And then what?_ The traitorous part of his brain asked. _Then maybe he'll come to you for dating advice? Is he gonna ask you for some kissing pract—_

Kenji dragged this thought to the trash.

"And I always thought you were a nice person, but I've especially appreciated all your help at our apprenticeship this semester—" Her gaze dropped to the floor, effectively putting those thick eyelashes of hers on display. _Damn._ If Kamasaki's type was short, sweet, and cute, Kenji didn't—

That thought went into the trash too.

"Um, you probably know where this is going," Kado-chan said, reaching into the pocket of her uniform jacket to pull out a cream-colored envelope. "But I hope you'll accept this, along with my feelings." Holding the envelop out to him two-handed, she bowed. 

Kenji plucked the envelope from her fingers and held it carefully with his own two hands. Like it meant something to him. For all he knew, it did. "Thanks Kado-chan," he told her as she straightened back up. She flushed a brilliant pink and Kenji wondered if Kamasaki didn't usually call her that. Well, he'd said it now. Then he gave the answer he'd already settled on during the quiet walk up to this stairwell landing. "Can I tell you tomorrow?"

Her eyes widened. "Of course!" she told him, her fingers locking together in the cutest way in front of her. "Tomorrow!"

He offered her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Kamasaki had a very honest smile. Kenji didn't. He wasn't sure which of the two would come through right now. Kado-chan flushed again at whatever she saw on his face though, so Kenji took the win. Out of curiosity he also made a mental note to try some of these expressions again in the mirror later.

They descended the stairs together in shy silence. Well, Kado-chan was shy. Kenji could feel it coming off her in waves. He wished he had more of a clue about what her friendship with Kamasaki was like so he could make some kind of joke or something to lighten the mood. Instead, as they reached the entrance to the third floor hallway again, he just gave her another smile. "Well. See you tomorrow."

She looked at him in surprise. "You're not going this way?"

"I need to head to the second floor," he said. He needed to find Kamasaki. Also Takanobu. Leaving that guy alone through lunch would be downright cruel, especially after their little display in the locker rooms this morning. He was probably confused as hell.

"Oh. Okay. See you!" And she smiled up at him, looking more confident than had this whole exchange. She really was pretty. If she _was_ Kamasaki's type—

_I'm not thinking about Kamasaki's type because I do not care._

With a slight wave, he made his exit, breathing an internal sigh of relief.

"Kamacchi!" It was Shimazaki's voice, calling after him as he was halfway down the stairs to the second floor. He turned to see her thundering down the steps. 

"Zakkun." He turned to her, friendly and open. When she pulled level with him, he was surprised to see her visibly stressed.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded.

"She confessed," Kenji told her uncertainly.

"She _what?_ "

"She confessed."

"Dammit," Shimazaki hissed, glaring off to the side for a moment. " _Dammit!_ " Her one visible blue eye found him again. "What didja say?"

Kenji watched her face carefully. This reaction was way too strong. He was missing something, something important. "I told her I'd think about it."

Leaning away, she looked up at him like she was trying to see him better. "You did not." Her one visible eye was set in a suspicious squint.

"What?"

"Shut the fuck up. You did not."

"Zakku—"

"Don't." She was outright glaring at him now. "Come on Kamacchi, it's not like you've _never_ been confessed to before. Did you really say that to her?" 

Kenji stared back. He was missing something _really_ important. Something that apparently Kamasaki fully knew about. "Look," he tried. "If you're this mad, I clearly fucked up."

" _If_ I'm mad?" She looked away and looked back. Her eyes were somewhere between bewildered and betrayed. Kenji was at a loss. "...You know what?" Shimazki said finally. "I'm gonna take a lap. I'll see you after lunch." And she turned and stormed back up the steps, two at a time. Kenji stared after her. She had tied her uniform jacket around her waist. It swished as she went.

_Shit._

He didn't run down to the second-year hallway but it was a close thing. He was definitely taking it at a brisk power walk by the time he got to Takanobu's classroom, where he'd told Kamasaki to wait. People were parting before him like pigeons before a charging dog and he felt a sick sort of satisfaction at that. At least he could exert _some_ kind of power today.

Takano and Kamasaki both looked up as he appeared in the classroom doorway. Kenji didn't stop. "We need to talk," he said, striding right up. 

"What?" Kamasaki demanded. "What happened?" He stood up so fast, the backs of his legs hit his chair, sending it clattering backwards. Takano was standing too, ready to intervene.

"Wait Takano," Kenji said and realized, shit, they still had to give him some kind of proper explanation too. From his perspective they'd just pulled some weird mind trick in the locker rooms this morning and now the person he thought was Kamasaki was calling him a nickname. A nickname only Kenji called him. He let go of Kamasaki and turned towards Takano more fully. "Just one second okay? I promise we're not fighting."

"Coulda fooled me," Kamasaki muttered. "You're sure doing a good job of making a scene anyway." He bent to pick up his chair. "Just pull up a seat will ya? Damn."

As much as Kenji hated to admit it, this was a perfectly reasonable request. They were probably going to get as much privacy huddled together here as they were anywhere else. Well, Kenji _could_ drag him to the men's room, he supposed, but that would make even more of a scene. 

Kenji sat.

"Listen," he mumbled, turning to Takano. His best friend was watching them with his version of wide eyes. "Remember when you stayed over for my birthday last year and we stayed up all night with Kimi, reading Koroko Connect?" He gestured between himself and Kamasaki. "Well, Koroko Connect is real." He didn't know how he was supposed to offer anything more detailed when he didn't _have_ any more details. Besides. They had other fish to fry right now. And Takano had a truly terrifying intuition sometimes. He'd probably like, blink and see Kenji's soul inside Kamasaki's body or something.

Kenji was _not_ going to ask himself if this whole mess meant his and Kamasaki's souls were linked somehow. That would be too gay.

" _Anyway_ ," he told Kamasaki, leaning in. Takano was looking between the two of them in confusion. "You just got confessed to."

" _What?!"_ More heads turned towards them. Kenji kicked him in the shin.

"Geez, keep it down! I thought you just yelled at _me_ for causing a scene."

"What?" Kamasaki hissed, hunching his shoulders as if that would keep him quiet. "Who?"

"Shimazaki called her Kado-chan."

Kamasaki's face went slack. Kenji felt his stomach turn at the expression. "You're shitting me."

"I'm afraid not." He felt his fingers curl around the edges of his chair. Kamasaki's reaction was further confirmation that somehow, he'd royally fucked up. He watched Kamasaki run his hand down Kenji's face in agitation.

"Fuck. Kadota? Really?"

"Yeah." 

The look Kamasaki fixed him with was sharp as a knife. "What'd you tell her?" 

"I told her I'd answer her tomorrow."

Great, more agitated face rubbing. "Did Shimazaki see you? Does she know what you said?"

"Yeah, I told her," Kenji said slowly. He felt his own leg starting to bounce. "She flipped out at me and I don't know why—"

"Fucking shit." Kamasaki's hand dropped to his collar and index finger crooked around the knot in his tie, yanking it like it was suddenly choking him. "Zakkun—Well, I guess I might as well fuckin' tell you, since you've already gone and stepped in it." He spared a glance at Takano, beckoning him in closer with a jerk of his head. The three of them leaned in together. "Don't go spreadin' this around okay? But Shimazaki has a crush on Kadota. They kissed at a party like two weeks ago."

Kenji felt his eyes go wide. "They did?"

"Yeah, 'cept Kadota was pretty drunk, Zakkun said, so she didn't know if it meant anything. But she was pretty clear that Kadota was the one who kissed _her,_ not the other way around."

The blood was turning to ice in his veins as Kenji remembered the hurt on Shimazaki's face. "Dammit," he muttered. 

"Yeah, 'dammit' is right. So now Zakkun's been playing this whole she-loves-me-she-loves-me-not game, and I guess Kadota suddenly confesses to _me,_ of all people..." His face darkened as he trailed off, staring at the desk like it was trying to send him to prison. "You gotta fix this," he told Kenji. 

"I will!"

"No." Kamasaki shook his head. Abruptly he got to his feet. "You're gonna fix it _now._ We're gonna go find Shimazaki and we're gonna fix it _now._ " Pausing, he squinted down at Kenji. "And where the hell's your lunch?" he demanded. 

"I didn't have time to buy it!" Kenji protested, standing up. Takano stood up to. "You senpai was a little preoccupied, Futakuchi-kun."

Kamasaki _stared_. Then he made a show of shuddering. "Please never make my mouth say that ever again," he muttered, scooping up his own lunch. Eyeing Takano, he asked, "You coming?"

Takano nodded. He still looked largely confused, like a lost puppy. Kenji wondered if Kamasaki could see it. 

"You three!" came a voice from the doorway. They all turned and Kenji almost wept with relief to see Moniwa standing there. Which was gross and embarrassing but he was gonna go ahead and give himself a pass. Extenuating circumstances and all that. 

"Hey Kaname," Kamasaki said. "You joining us on our little field trip?"

Moniwa looked surprised. "I—where are we going?" he asked, allowing himself to be swept up as Kamasaki herded them all out the door. Kenji noticed a thin sheaf of papers in his hands. 

"This guy got confessed to." Kamasaki's hand found Kenji's shoulder. "By Kadota."

" _Kadota?!_ "

"Here we go again," Kenji muttered. "I didn't _know_ , okay?" he said louder.

"Oh what a mess," Moniwa said, almost to himself. "I thought you two could at least get through to lunch time without the world ending."

"I mean technically, we _did_ get to lunch time," Kenji pointed out reasonably. "We just didn't last five minutes past that." This earned him three very unimpressed looks. "What? I'm right!"

"You _really_ don't wanna piss me off right now," Kamasaki growled at him. Hearing that growl in his own voice was doing weird things to Kenji's brain and general insides. That growl was probably at least fifty percent of the reason he didn't point out that, generally, pissing Kamasaki off was one of his favorite pastimes. Today he just hadn't actually meant for it to happen.

"What do you have?" Takano asked, startling Kenji away from Kamasaki. Glancing over his shoulder, he realized Takano was talking to Moniwa, eyes fixed on the papers in his hands.

"Oh this is for them," Moniwa said, gesturing to Kenji and Kamasaki. "I printed off copies at the library just now. It's, um, it's a list of questions that are supposed to help people get to know each other better."

As one, Kamasaki and Kenji turned and looked back at him. "What?" they said. 

"Look, this is always how it works in the movies right? You have to learn something about each other if you want to switch back. So I figured, we need to get on it right away."

They looked at each other. Slowly, Kamasaki reached out a hand. "Okay, let's see it." 

Kenji followed suit. "Oooh," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm as he looked down at the handout. "I _love_ Ladies' Good Life Mag dot com!" 

Kamasaki kicked him.

"Ow!"

"Stop making my voice say stupid shit!" he hissed. One of his hands came up to clench the back of Kenji's school uniform. "Kaname," he said, turning back to Moniwa. "This guy needs to feed me. If I give you some money can you head down to the vending machines?"

Moniwa looked startled, but he quickly recovered. "Sure. What do you want?"

"Three cartons of milk. And two melon bread if the canteen has any. Otherwise don't worry about it." Kamasaki pulled his wallet out of his pocket and forked over the cash. He kept the bills folded in half and licked his thumb before counting them out meticulously. It was total grandpa behavior. Kenji absolutely did _not_ find it charming.

Moniwa held out his palms for Kamasaki to count out the bills into, like he was used to this. He probably was. "Okay," he said, tucking the money away carefully. "I'll take care of this while you guys fix the Kadota problem. Meet me back here after." And with a decisive, captainly nod, he turned and headed down the hall.

Kamasaki didn't wait to watch him go. "Come on," he said, turning on his heel and making for the opposite stairwell. "We gotta burn rubber."

"How much time until lunch is over?" Kenji asked, falling into step with him. Takano fell in at Kenji's right side, showing him his wrist. Kenji gripped it with practiced ease, examining Takano's watch as they walked. "Shit, not long."

The three of them striding down the hallway like charging bulls was _definitely_ turning heads. People were balking. Wimps. Kenji met their eyes and smirked. 

"What are you doing to my face now?" Kamasaki asked, noticing.

Kenji's expression didn't change. "You gotta let people know you see them staring, Futakuchi-kun." He wasn't about to out Takano by explaining that Kenji had long since gotten in the practice of eyeing down anyone who looked at his bestie funny. Just because Takano was a 190-plus-cm albino giant, didn't mean he was a _freak._

"You really love attention don't you?"

"Depends on the source." Kenji turned his head as he said it, levelling Kamasaki with his sweetest smile. 

Next to him, Takano snorted. 

Kenji's head whipped around to glare. _What?_

The two millimeters Takano's mouth moved was his version of a smirk. _You know what._

Kenji's shoulders moved up towards his ears of their own accord. He wondered if it was a knee-jerk response of Kamasaki's body to feeling caught-out. What an obvious fucking tell. _Well,_ he grumbled internally. _At least Takano seems to be taking this okay._

He was saved from further sulking by their arrival at a particular third-floor classroom. "Hey, Sasaya," Kamasaki said as he opened the door. Sasaya and a few other third years that Kenji didn't recognize were circled around a desk.

"Oh hey." Sasaya's eyes roved over all three of them, a look of slight confusion on his face. "What's up?"

"Have you seen Shimazaki?" Kenji asked, taking his cue. It was probably his place to do most of the talking here, he figured.

"No, I figured she might be with you."

"...Huh." That was probably bad. "'Kay we're gonna go then," Kenji said. "If you see her, tell her I'm looking for her."

Sasaya's look of confusion deepened. "...Okay," he said. 

"Great," Kamasaki was groaning once the three of them were back in the hallway. "Did she tell you she was leaving?"

"She said she was gonna do a lap?" Kenji offered. He wished he could remember more details of the conversation. He mostly just remembered feeling blindsided.

Kamasaki huffed like a frustrated horse. "She probably just needs to walk this off. Can't blame her for that." He pointed a finger in Kenji's face. "When you see her, you convince her you're _fucking sorry,_ you understand me? I don't care if you gotta kowtow to do it. You convince her."

"I will," Kenji insisted. He made himself hold Kamasaki's gaze. "I will, I swear." He liked messing with people a little, sure, but the idea that he'd genuinely fucked up was pretty awful. 

His sincerity seemed to surprise Kamasaki and placate him in equal measure. "...I'm countin' on you," he muttered, turning away. "Come on. I bet Moniwa's got your food by now." 

"Oh yeah," Kenji said, keeping his voice somewhat quiet as they headed down the stairs. Kamasaki had to lean in to hear him. "Kadota gave you this." He pulled her card out of his pocket. "I know we gotta unfuck this whole thing, but you probably should at least open it."

Kamasaki eyed the card like he thought it might bite. "Not in public," he said, finally. "Later." 

Kenji tucked it away again. "Probably a bad look if the guy she confessed to gave her love letter to someone else to read," he agreed. 

Moniwa was waiting for them as they returned to Takano's classroom. "Here," he said, carefully doling out his small collection of snacks into Kenji's hands. "Eat quick, you don't have a lot of time."

For the second time that day, people actually turned at the sound of Kenji's stomach giving a violent rumble. His eyes went wide; he hadn't noticed in the midst of all the drama but he was _ravenous_. Kamasaki, of course, laughed at him. "Shut up," Kenji muttered, ripping the plastic cover off a straw. "Why are you so hungry all the time anyway?" With more aggression than necessary, he jabbed the straw's pointed end into the first milk carton. 

"Gotta maintain muscle mass somehow, right?" Kamasaki said, plopping himself into a nearby chair with a lazy sprawl. Even in Kenji's body, the gesture still seemed so Kamasaki, which meant Kenji was still having his usual reaction. It was really messing with him. 

To shut up both his brain and his mouth, he focused on inhaling his food. Moniwa and Kamasaki chatted easily as he ate, tearing off chunks of melon bread around violent slurps of milk. Takano sat quietly as usual, watching and listening. Even if this had to be confusing for him, Kenji was still glad he was along for the ride. Most of the other kids in his class were still scared of him. If Kenji had to avoid him, he'd be eating lunch alone.

He was just licking crumbs from the melon bread wrapper when the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch.

"Don't fuck this up," Kamasaki growled as they all moved for the door.

"I already said I'd fix it didn't I?" Kenji grumbled back. Kamasaki shoved at him with his shoulder. Kenji shoved back. 

"BEHAVE," Takano boomed after them. 

Shimazaki's seat was empty as Kenji got back to class. It remained empty as the final warning bell rang. As class started without her, Kenji's stomach slowly began to tie itself in knots. 

Kenji sure as hell knew that it wasn't easy to be attracted to someone of the same gender. He knew that being a team captain probably afforded some kind of social protection, but it was still a gamble. He didn't know how close the girls's soccer team was or how they'd reacted when Shimazaki came out. The volleyball team might be a little awkward about it if they knew about Kenji playing for both teams, but he had a reasonable hope that they'd get over it. Whether or not he'd ever get vulnerable enough to tell them in the first place though, that was a different issue. He had a vague understanding that Shimazaki's coming out hadn't been totally voluntary, but still. It took serious guts to be The Gay Kid. More guts than Kenji had. He wondered if Kadota really liked Shimazaki back, or if she had just been curious. Wherever she was now, Shimazaki had to be wondering the exact same thing. That had to suck.

Kenji resisted the urge to beat his head on his desk. The longer he thought about it, the more he understood how it must have looked to Shimazaki, when he didn't turn Kadota down outright. Of _course_ it had looked like betrayal. 

He made himself sit up straighter at the thought, doing his best to stow the sick feeling in stomach. He wasn't a total asshole. He'd fix this. He'd promised Kamasaki he would.

"Sensei," he asked, after the final bell had rung and everyone was filing out for the day. "Did Shimazaki go home sick?"

"She did," Yamanoi confirmed. She had a habit of eyeing Kamasaki suspiciously whenever she talked to him. "The nurse's office contacted me after lunch."

Well, there was nothing he could do about it right now. "Thank you, sensei," he said. And he headed off to his own locker.

They were really going to have to trade locker combinations at some point. There were so many things they still needed to do but there just hadn't been _time_ this morning. He thought of Moniwa's get-to-know-each-other questions, burning a hole in the pocket of his school bag. He'd taken a look between classes. There was all sorts of stuff on there, everything from 'What makes your day better?' to 'What type of music are you into?' That last question made Kenji nervous. Fortunately, Kamasaki ever finding out what his ringtone was on Kenji's phone was pretty unlikely.

The others were already there when he got to the locker room. Kenji could see Kamasaki already getting changed beside Takano. They both nodded to him when he entered. It was a good thing the third years were so committed to sticking around. His presence wouldn't be considered _that_ weird. 

Or so he thought. Everyone was kind of looking at him. 

"Are you going to be coming to every practice again, senpai?" Kogane asked.

"He sure isn't," Kamasaki said. Kenji glared at him. Kamasaki looked right back, totally level. "He has his apprenticeship on Tuesdays, for one thing." 

There was a strange silence. "...And you know each other's schedule because...?" Obara asked. 

"Moniwa's idea," Kenji interjected smoothly. "S'posed to make us get along better or something."

The lie seemed to garner mixed results. Kogane nodded like this made total sense and Sakunami smiled like it was cute or something. The second years were a little more skeptical. "And you guys _agreed_ to that?" Onagawa asked.

"We were being pretty big assholes at his birthday," Kenji said, conscious of the fact that Kamasaki was still watching him with that unblinking look. "We figured we should make it up to him."

"...What he said," Kamasaki agreed. 

Fortunately they'd at least sorted out their gym lockers this morning. Kenji checked the combination of his phone, and opened Kamasaki's lock, beginning to change into his practice clothes. Which. Changing _as_ Kamasaki was its own experience. _Every cloud has a silver lining,_ he thought smugly, dragging a surreptitious hand up Kamasaki's stomach, under the pretense of scratching an itch. Kenji was an athlete too but all his own muscle was long and lean. Kamasaki's was more...compact. Thicker. Kenji was planning to make a more thorough investigation later. He wasn't going to do anything weird or anything, but he figured there was no practical way he could avoid _looking_ right? And he wasn't about to grope himself in front of the entire team, but there was no reason he couldn't take his time getting changed. 

He was jolted out of his thoughts by Kamasaki sitting on the bench in the middle of the room. It was the same posture Kenji had been mimicking in class; legs spread, arms crossed. "Hey," he grunted. "Hurry up." Most of the others had already left. The door to the gym swung open to let Kogane and Sakunami through and then he was alone with Kamasaki and Takano. 

"Sorry, did you need something?" Kenji asked, bending down to tie his shoes. 

"Yeah I need somethin'. Did you talk to Shimazaki?"

Kenji's hands stilled for a moment. "She wasn't in class. The nurse said she went home sick." 

"Oh." Kamasaki's face fell. He chewed on his lip, clearly agitated. 

Shoes tied, Kenji straightened back up. "I'll find her tomorrow," he promised. "But before then..." He glanced at Takano, still looming. "Hey, can you give us a minute?" Takano was in on this, yeah, but there were still some things that he was betting Kamasaki wasn't going to want to share with anyone he didn't absolutely have to.

Takano blinked. And then he nodded. The locker room echoed with his steps as he headed out into the gym. 

Kamasaki was eyeing him warily. "What's wrong _now?_ " he asked, glaring. He still had Kenji's legs spread across the locker room bench. (And wasn't that a sentence worth revisiting later.) 

"I figured we should probably get some stuff clear. After what happened today." Kenji forced himself to keep his posture casual, refusing to let himself fidget. "There's no one I like right now, so if a girl confesses to you, just turn her down."

"Ah." Kamasaki let out a deep breath. "So it's time for this conversation huh?" His eyes fell to the floor for a moment, examining Kenji's shoes as he thought. Well. Kamasaki's shoes. It just happened to be Kenji wearing the feet inside them. After a moment, Kamasaki raised his eyes again, meeting Kenji's gaze with something like defiance. "Alright, lemme make something clear. What I am about to say is _not_ us bonding, got it? There's no way I'd be tellin' you this if today hadn't happened. But Shimazaki already knows, and it's definitely gonna be a factor in how she's reading this whole thing so if you're gonna be the one to fix it you may as well know too."

"...Okay?" Kenji could feel his eyebrows knitting together.

Kamasaki sighed again. Untucking one of his arms from where they were crossed over his body, he held a hand to his chest, as if indicating his entire being. "I'm gay."

_Oh._

Kenji's eyes went wide. "...Did I just almost accept a girl's confession on behalf of a gay guy?" he asked. _While we’re at it, have I been mocking a gay guy about girls not liking him?_

Kamasaki snorted without humor. "'Fraid so."

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I haven't personally read Koroko Connect but apparently body-swapping is a pretty common plot device there.  
> 2\. If you like having a soundtrack to accompany fics I listen to this [ Rivals to Lovers ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4JHdYAiWJ8WBLxx3PwIPdu?si=hP2J9_mmRw2s7oWBeDicXw) playlist while I write.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	4. Yasushi and the Vixen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm about to have surgery, wish me luck!

From: Yasushi  
 _are u ok_ _  
__i am really fucking sorry for how i handled that_

From: Shimazaki  
 _i'll be fine, i just need some space right now_ _  
__i'll see you tomorrow buddy_

Kadota's letter was... Well, it wasn't hard to read, exactly, but it wasn't the most fun Yasushi had ever had in his life. Based on what Futakuchi ended up describing about her confession, it outlined a lot of the same things. Their long-standing acquaintance, how much she appreciated him looking out for her at their apprenticeship. It also added a sentence at the very end that said, _'I feel comfortable around you in a way I don't around most boys'_ which made Yasushi's heart go out to her a whole fucking lot.

 _Whose ass do I have to kick,_ he thought, turning the letter this way and that in the privacy of Futakuchi's room. _If the only guy she feels comfortable around is the fuckin' gay one?_

In the end, it kinda sucked to admit, but he really hoped Futakuchi had a plan to fix this. Yasushi sure as hell didn't know how any of them were gonna come out of it looking good. He had sympathy for Kadota because figuring yourself out was _hard,_ but also not that much sympathy because Yasushi personally had managed to do it without kissing people drunk at parties. 

When Yasushi was in the sixth grade, a classmate of his had brought a swimwear magazine to the locker rooms. He'd stolen it from his older brother, he'd said. Everyone had gathered around to look. The models were, strictly speaking, not nude but it had seemed taboo and exciting at the time. Even if he didn't get as much out of it as his classmates did, the thrill of looking at something they shouldn't be was appealing. On his turn, Yasushi remembed examining the thing just as close as everyone else. A word on the front cover had caught his attention.

"What does 'vixen' mean?" The magazine, with its loud, bold font, promised the viewer a dozen of them.

"It's like a girl fox," said one of the smarter kids. "It means like, someone who's really sexy but kinda sly about it, I guess? Like they could be mean or they could not." 

"Oh, huh." Yasushi flipped through the catalogue again. Some of the ladies did look like they could be a little mean, maybe. The concept at the time though, remained mostly muddy.

When he got to eighth grade, the boy he'd sat next to in class was a kid named Mikawa. Mikawa had a seat next to the window, like an anime protagonist. He'd had canny green eyes, and his blue-black hair was a little too long for regulation. He was always making irreverent comments; about the teacher's bad toupee, the subjects they were studying, the kids who had hit their growth spurts already and thought they were hot shit. He and Yasushi had gotten along _great_.

One day in health class, the students had been too restless, too distracted. It had been one of the first truly nice days of spring and everyone was eager to get back outside. The teacher, growing frustrated with their lack of manners, had snapped.

"You all need to show some appreciation for the fact that you even _get_ a health class," he'd said. "In some other places they don't teach you about sex at all. They just tell you that sex is bad and then send you home!"

Mikawa had leaned over. "Yeah, and in those places? I bet the sex _is_ bad."

Yasushi had snorted, clapping a hand over his mouth. The teacher, mercifully, had been just about to turn back to the board and didn't see him. At the noise, he whirled again. "Who was that? Who laughed?"

Dead silence. With a baleful glare, he'd eventually turned away again.

Yasushi glanced at his seatmate. Mikawa was already looking at him sidelong, chin propped in his hand. When Yasushi met his gaze, his face had broken into a self-satisfied smirk. The light from the window had backlit him the merest touch and Yasushi had become aware suddenly that his eyelashes, where they'd framed his green eyes, were very long. His teeth, where they'd flashed at the corner of his mouth, seemed impossibly sharp.

 _Oh,_ Yasushi had thought, understanding cresting in him in a helpless sort of wave. _Oh,_ _that's_ _a vixen._

Mikawa had ultimately gone somewhere else for high school and he and Yasushi had fallen out of touch. Yasushi'd come out to his dad at the end of middle school. His dad had harumph'd awkwardly but eventually had slapped Yasushi on the back and said "Well, you know my rules about dating. I'm not gonna change them if you bring home a boy. Now go get washed up for dinner." Yasushi's stomach had flopped with relief. 

The thing that his dad _had_ done was deciding that Yasushi needed The Sex Talk Part Two: Gay Edition. So he had sent Yasushi to his cousin Megumi who was "gay for women and straight for men." (Pops, bless his soul, was trying.)

"So it's called 'bisexual,'" was one of the first things Megumi said to him as she took him for a walk along the river. "That's what I am."

"Do you think I'll turn out to be bisexual?" Yasushi had asked. He was fifteen and at the time, still profoundly uncomfortable with his own sexuality.

"It's possible," Megumi conceded. There was black lace poking out from under her sweatshirt. She'd come straight from work. "Have you ever been attracted to a girl?"

"Not really." And he hadn't realized just how much that knowledge had been weighing on him until he'd said it aloud.

"What do you say when the other boys ask you?"

Yasushi shrugged, plunging his hands deeper into the pockets of his Date Tech jacket. It had been brand new then. "I tell them none of the girls in our school are mature enough. They think I like college girls."

She had laughed a little, the Kamasaki laugh, the one that sounded like a wild dog. "That's pretty smart Yassun."

He snorted, dismissive. "Thanks."

They'd walked pretty far, all the way down to the train tracks and back. Megumi had given him a pamphlet (which she made him swear up and down to actually read), some condoms, and a small bottle of lube. She also made sure he had her number and instructed him to text her if he had questions. "There's a lot of confusing information online, and I don't really care if you watch porn but porn is 100% _not_ a reference, you read me?"

"Loud and clear."

The nitty-gritty out of the way, the conversation turned light and easy. She asked him about what kind of boys he liked and Yasushi had been surprised to realize that talking about boys was _fun._ The other guys always had this kinda chit-chat about girls but Yasushi had never been invested before. Go figure. 

He got invested enough talking to Megumi, that somewhere along the line, he'd asked her, "Hey, you think guys can be foxy too?" 

She'd pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Yeah, I'd say so. I know the type you're talking about, the ones who are pretty and know it?" She rolled a hair tie off her wrist as she spoke, and started to tie her hair back. "Just be careful with those ones, okay? The last thing you want is to get attracted to the face and not the person." And as Yasushi had gone quiet again, thinking, she'd bumped her shoulder against his. "Sexy doesn't count for much. Take it from someone who looks sexy for a living." Megumi was a bottle-service girl. 

In light of her advice, someone like Mikawa was a gray area, Yasushi decided. Yasushi had definitely been attracted to his face but they had also definitely been friends. And he'd kinda sucked but somehow he'd gotten Yasushi to like that about him, the sly dog. "What if there's ever a case where I still think they're hot but they kinda suck?" 

"I'd say put him in your spank-bank and move on with your day."

Yasushi had thrown back his head and laughed, delighted at hearing an authority figure speak so crudely. "Gross!" 

Now, Yasushi was eighteen, sitting on Futakuchi's bed, rapidly being forced to confront the fact that after a long day of whatever the hell _that_ was, Futakuchi's body was getting horny. Like, way hornier than Yasushi himself would have been by now. Yasushi always _could_ masturbate given the chance, but Futakuchi's guts were really starting to buzz. 

Rolling over, he dug for where his phone had been dropped by Futakuchi's pillow. He'd thought he'd notice more that everything smelled like Futakuchi but maybe it was hard to notice a guy's smell when you currently _were_ the guy. Pulling up Futakuchi's number, he fired off a quick text.

From: Yasushi  
 _hey ur pretty horny right now_ _  
__should I take care of it for u_

The response was almost immediate.

From: dumb brat  
 _Jesus christ_ _  
__WARN A GUY before you send off a message like that_ _  
__Who raised you? Goddamn_

Yasushi rolled his eyes.

From: Yasushi  
 _my bad ur majesty_ _  
__would ur highness like to discuss the royal dick right now_ _  
__and if I could touch it for you_

From: dumb brat  
 _If anyone finds my phone they're gonna think this is some very weird sexting_

From: Yasushi  
 _how does this sound like sexting_ _  
__anyway yes or no_ _  
__ur dumb body is really sensitive_

From: dumb brat  
 _What do you MEAN "how does this sound like sexting" ???_ _  
__Kamasaki-san...are you the innocent type after all? That's so cute_

Normally this would have been enough to draw Yasushi into bickering about whatever the hell Futakuchi wanted them to bicker about today, but his current set of nether regions was starting to get pretty twitchy. He either had to get permission to touch them or else take a cold shower.

From: Yasushi  
 _if ur not comfortable with me touchin u can just say no_ _  
__i'm not gun do anything u dont want_

From: dumb brat  
 _Oh._ _  
__Yeah knock yourself out_ _  
__Since we're on the topic, can I get you too?_

From: Yasushi  
 _yup_ _  
__do what u got to_

From: dumb brat  
 _Will do_ _  
__Congrats on being the first person I've sexted senpai ;)_

From: Yasushi  
 _i will block ur number don't test me_ _  
__anyway its not like sexting counts right now_ _  
__not when we're like this_

From: dumb brat  
 _Are you kidding me, I think sexting is the ONLY sexual contact that counts right now_ _  
__Our minds are still the same and that's all that's in the equation right now_ _  
__But if we were together it would be like "am I touching you or am I touching ME," you know?_

From: Yasushi  
 _ok now ur weirding me out_

From: dumb brat  
 _Oh come on Kamasaki-san_ _  
__Don't you want to engage in this thought experiment?_

From: Yasushi  
 _i'm putting my phone away_ _  
__and if u pray hard enough_ _  
__maybe i will touch ur goddamn dick_ _  
__instead of letting it fall off like u deserve_

True to his word, Yasushi put his phone face down on Futakuchi's bedside table. Let the ungrateful brat tire himself out with his yakking. Yasushi had to take care of his dumb body for him. He sprawled out on his back, got himself comfortable, and undid the fly of his pants. Really, he figured as he took himself in hand, this was probably an especially good day to indulge in some pleasures of the flesh. There was a _lot_ of stress that needed relieving. And as much as he might want to, he couldn't really blame it all on Futakuchi. The guy had clearly been trying to do damage control, giving Kadota a neutral answer. Yasushi probably wouldn't have thought that fast on his feet. Futakuchi, that son of a bitch, had always been way too clever.

Sly.

... _Okay so we're doing this,_ Yasushi thought, resigned. He was sure someone unattracted to Futakuchi could be inside Futakuchi's body (ha) without thinking about him like this but, hey. Futakuchi looked like he did and Yasushi's type was what it was. If there was gonna be one scenario where he allowed himself to think with his dick, it might as well be when jacking off. 

Also Futakuchi's inner thighs were really sensitive and his neck was really ticklish. Yasushi was going to remember the last one especially for when they switched back. If Futakuchi ever tried to get the drop on him, he could tickle the bastard to death. Just once he'd like the chance to wrestle him into submission, without Aone or anyone around to interfere and then... And then...

_And then I'll make the brat say something nice about me._

That was the beauty of fantasy land, wasn't it, that in this bizarro twilight zone, there could exist a Futakuchi who might willingly touch Yasushi's dick, or even be actively invested in touching Yasushi's dick. He'd probably make Yasushi do all the work though, just to piss him off. That sounded right. He'd tire Yasushi out by forcing Yasushi to wrestle him onto the bed and then once he was pinned, he wouldn't even admit he'd been beaten. He'd probably just say, _'Impress me, Kamasaki-san'_ and lie there with his hands tucked behind his head with his legs over Yasushi's shoulders like the pillow princess he probably was. And if Yasushi tried to rest his hands anywhere near his face, Futakuchi would probably bite him. 

Actually Yasushi was kinda into that. The thought anyway. He'd never been with anyone beyond his hand, so he didn't know for sure, but he could be into biting, he figured.

 _Shoulda switched bodies with Mikawa, wherever he is,_ Yasushi thought with a sigh after he was finished. _At least he and I were actually friends._ After a moment, he rolled off the bed and went to get cleaned up.

Futakuchi's parents had yet to be seen and Futakuchi's little sister was in her room, allowing Yasushi to commandeer the bathroom in peace. He washed his hands and put on clean clothes, giving his soiled boxers a thorough soak and wringing out before he threw them into Futakuchi's laundry hamper. All that taken care of, he plopped back onto the bed and checked his phone.

From: dumb brat  
 _Now who's making it weird_ _  
__Did you leave already?_ _  
__Ha, you're totally touching my dick right now_

And then there was the last text which had come a minute ago, while Yasushi was in the bathroom.

From: dumb brat  
 _why the fuck is this taikng so long_ _  
__how long does this usually take you_

Ha, looked like he wasn't the only one who'd been busy the past couple of minutes. A mean grin splitting his face, Yasushi began to type.

From: Yasushi  
 _it's called edging ever heard of it_ _  
__builds stamina_

There was also a text from Kaname. Yasushi opened it, feeling chastised even without really knowing what he might have done wrong.

From: Moniwa Kaname  
 _I want you and Futakuchi to have the first five questions done by tomorrow._

From: Yasushi _  
__slave driver_

From: Moniwa Kaname  
 _It's for your own good Yassun. The faster you two bond the faster you can switch back._ _  
__And I just wanted to say; I'm sorry about what happened with Shimazaki._

From: Yasushi  
 _yeah me too_  
 _thanks for finding the questions for us_ _  
good lookin out_

It was just after 8:00 p.m. now. He'd seen Futakuchi's sister, Kimiko, eating leftovers from the fridge so he'd helped himself to the same. He wondered if the Futakuchi siblings fended for themselves a lot. Probably. He should probably get his lunch ready for tomorrow then. Thinking of meals reminded him of his own household and the thought gave him a jolt. As he headed down the stairs for the kitchen, he took out his phone and called Futakuchi.

"Calling to check in on me?" came the immediate greeting.

"No." And then because he was courteous or something, he added, "Did you finish?"

A laugh. "Don't worry senpai, I took good care of Kamasaki Jr." 

Hearing those idiotic words in his own voice was probably the worst thing that had ever happened to him. He growled incoherently, even as he stuck his head in the fridge to find some food. "Just wait till I get my hands on you tomorrow."

"Promises, promises."

Oh for the love of—" _Not like that,"_ he snarled. "That was a threat, jackass. Don't give my dick a nickname." 

"Mmhmm. So was there a point to this call? Or did you really just call to—"

"My dad's gonna be home soon," Yasushi interjected before Futakuchi could really get going. "You gotta have dinner ready for him."

"Oh." There was a certain hesitation in Futakuchi's voice now. "I actually already ate...?"

Yasushi snorted. "Trust me. You'll be able to eat again. But anyway, making dinner's what I always do, so you gotta do it." He started pulling containers out of the fridge and placing them on the counter. He should probably do some fresh rice for this he figured. And maybe he should check if Kimiko had made her lunch yet.

"What do you usually make for him?"

Yasushi tucked the phone between his shoulder and ear, trying to think. "There's a couple of packages of sinigang in the corner cupboard," he decided. "I've been meaning to use them up." As he spoke, he took the lids off of the various containers, trying to see what he was working with.

"What's sinigang?"

"It's a Filipino soup mix. You'll like it, it's tasty as hell."

There was a silence and at first Yasushi thought Futakuchi was sulking, or ignoring him maybe, but then he distantly heard the sound of shuffling. _Oh. He's actually looking for it._ "What am I gonna put in it?" Futakuchi asked after a moment.

"We've got green beans in the fridge. And there should be pork chops in there too." _Oh wait,_ he thought with an internal groan _. No, I was supposed to do that this morning excep—_

"I don't see any pork chops."

"Check the freezer. My mom would get on my case for not thawing them but you can cheat it if you run them under hot water."

More shuffling noises. Then, distantly, the sound of a tap running. "Hey so." Futakuchi's voice sounded weirdly polite. "Where _is_ your mom? Shimazaki was asking about her."

"Oh." Yasushi began to poke through the cupboards for signs of a bento box. "She got a job doing live-in hospice care for some rich family down in Okinawa. They pay really good so she had no reason not to go. Basically means she's working all the time though."

"Oh." The silence seemed particularly loaded. Yasushi wondered if he was imagining it until Futakuchi said, "So when you were on the phone with her at Moniwa's birthday party...I mean, do you get to talk to her often?"

"...Often enough," Yasushi said, gruffer than he intended. "You already apologized. Don't get a martyr complex about it."

"I don't think that's what a martyr complex is, senpai," Futakuchi retorted, which was just fuckin' typical.

"Don't be a smartass then." 

"But it's so—"

"Who are you talking to?" 

Yasushi almost jumped. Turning, he saw Futakuchi Kimiko standing in the entrance to the kitchen. She looked like her brother, with the same wide brown eyes and the same smooth brown hair. Hers was currently up in two little buns. Yasushi knew, in the vague way that you tended to know random things about someone you saw consistently for a year and a half, that she was two years younger than Futakuchi and that she was wanting to attend some fancy arts school next year.

"It's Kamasaki," he said, holding the phone slightly away from his ear.

"Who is that?" Futakuchi demanded distantly. "Is that Kimi?"

"The guy on your volleyball team? The one with the nice ass?"

Yasushi's eyebrows shot into his hair. "...Nice ass?"

"Oh God," Futakuchi said. Yasushi barely heard him. "What is she saying?"

"In my defense," Kimiko said. " _You_ said it first. I was just a secondary opinion." She wandered over to where he had spread the food over the counter. "Are you making lunches?"

A slow, open-mouthed smirk was spreading over Yasushi's face. Futakuchi was still squawking over the call. Yasushi was ignoring him. " _I_ said that?" 

"Don't play dumb." She reached into a container of ready-cooked sausages and popped on into her mouth. "You know you did."

Futakuchi was sputtering. "Don't talk to her, she's crazy—" 

Yasushi hung up on him. 

He was aware that his smirk was turning distinctly mean. "Tall guy? Dyes his hair blond? Nice ass?"

She squinted up at him. "What is _with_ you? Yes. That guy."

"You don't say," Yasushi murmured, mostly to himself. She was giving him another weird look but he was too busy gloating to care. _This_ , he decided, _is the best day of my life._ He was gonna hold this over that brat's head for-fucking- _ever._

Then her other question caught up to him. "Oh. Yeah, I'm making lunch," he added. "You make yours yet?" 

"No."

"You should," he said. 

"Okay _Mom_."

He huffed absently. He should probably call Futakuchi back, he figured, spinning his phone between his thumb and forefinger. The guy definitely needed help cooking the sinigang. Not to mention they still had all Moniwa's questions to talk about. And they had to square what was happening tomorrow. Yasushi'd probably let him freak out long enough, not that he felt bad about it. It was Futakuchi's own fault anyway. Even if he had body envy over Yasushi's ass (and who could blame him really, Yasushi worked _hard_ to be built like he was), it was his own damn fault for commenting on it in front of witnesses.

Distantly, there was a part of him that wondered if maybe Futakuchi's admiration of his body was more than just envy. He ignored that part. Yasushi hadn't gotten this far in life by taking his eyes off the score and the score said that Futakuchi didn't like guys. Yasushi would be a sucker to forget it. 

To keep the thought at bay, he picked up the phone and called Futakuchi again.

" _What?_ " Futakuchi demanded. "What did she say?"

"Calm down, will ya?" Yasushi said. "Are you cooking?" Kimiko had gotten out her own bento box. Yasushi took his phone away from his hear for a second to talk to her. "You want fresh rice? I'm gonna put some on."

"Okay." She was still eyeing him. "Thank you."

"Yeah." He turned back to his phone call. " _Are_ you cooking? There should be instructions on the back of the packet."

"Yeah, I saw that." Futakuchi seemed suspicious still but maybe the embarrassment was making him docile. He didn't seem to want to fight anyway. "Where do you keep the rice?"

"Pantry's just past the fridge." Once again, he ignored the look Kimiko gave him. If she was as sharp as her brother, he was going to have a hell of a time explaining this, but he wasn't going to worry about that right now. His dad's dinner had to get made. "Oh yeah, also, Moniwa says we have to have questions ready for tomorrow."

"Yeah, I got that text too." Futakuchi made a noise like something had just occurred to him. "And can we talk about your stupid wood shop project?"

"What's wrong with my shop project?" 

"It's too fucking complicated! I don't even know what you're making!"

"Oh. Ping-pong table."

" _What?_ "

"I'm making a ping-pong table." He had managed to locate the Futakuchis' own bag of rice. It wasn't that hard, there was a wire shelf by their fridge. The rice was sitting on the bottom shelf. Crouching down, rice pot in hand, he began to measure some out. "What's so surprising about that?"

"What the hell were all the little rectangles for? I had Mashiba making them all class."

Yasushi smirked. "Really? That's awesome. We totally didn't need any more."

"Yeah he tried to tell me that but I made him do it anyway. I had to get him out of my hair _somehow._ "

"Aw, makin' Mashiba your bitch? I so proud." He plopped the rice pot in the sink and began to run the water. "I'm gonna put those rectangles together and make 'em the net."

(Fortunately, it seemed Kimiko was losing interest in his conversation. Having assembled all the non-rice bits of her lunch, she slipped out of the kitchen with a mumbled, "Call me when the rice is ready.")

"Huh. Well, you're probably going to want to work on it after school tomorrow," Futakuchi said. "Since I didn't get anything done on it today."

Yasushi took a second to chew on that one. "Why the hell not? And is that your version of asking me for _help?_ " 

"It's not help if it's your own project."

"Yeah but I'm already making your little sign in metal shop. Only fair that you put in some elbow grease on my stuff."

"Shouldn't you be more protective of your brainchild or something?"

Yasushi felt one of his eyebrows arch. "You really don't know how to ask for anything, huh? I thought we called a truce."

The silence of Futakuchi's end of the phone stretched. "Well it's not like I'd say 'no' to a demonstration," he said in a voice that was way too breezy.

 _Oh, he's_ embarrassed _,_ Yasushi realized with a grin. "Okay. We only have morning practice tomorrow anyway so it should be pretty easy to get to the wood shop after classes. Sakura likes me anyway."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Futakuchi said. "I don't think Sakura likes _anyone._ "

"He likes me," Yasushi repeated. "Anyway, I'll snag the questions. You should probably chop up a few potatoes for that soup." Futakuchi hummed, sounding caught between his love of practicality and his desire to be difficult.

It almost felt like being the guy's teammate again, Yasushi decided as he climbed the stairs to Futakuchi's room. Having a shared goal was good for them and they sure as hell didn't work _bad_ together. It was the closest they were probably ever gonna get to having a cordial conversation. 

The questions were the kind of cheesy thing that Yasushi would have expected in a lifestyle magazine, but they were all easy enough to answer. He leaned against the island counter, scribbling Futakuchi's responses in the margins of the print-off as he waited for the rice to finish. He learned that Futakuchi liked L'arc-en-Ciel just like he did, and that when he'd had a bad day, he went over to Aone's house and they would lie on his bedroom floor and listen to music. (This struck Yasushi as unexpectedly cute, not that he'd ever admit it.) Unlike Yasushi, he'd never had a part time job. 

"Typical," Yasushi muttered, writing this down dutifully.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, _princess._ "

"Well," Futakuchi said, sounding distinctly put out. "When did _you_ start working?"

"Depends on how you slice it. I been helping at my grandpa's farm since I was kid but I wasn't paid or anything."

"Hmm." Futakuchi's hum sounded way too exaggerated. "I guess I can count it," he said airily. "But is it really a job if you don't pay taxes on it?"

"You really suck, you know that?"

There was a grin in Futakuchi's voice now, like that was the answer he was going for or something. "So...what position do you sleep in?" 

He just _knew_ Futakuchi wanted him to say something that would open it up to talk about _other kinds_ of positions, but Yasushi was not about to give him the damn satisfaction. "On my back," he said shortly. "You?"

"On my side." There was a pause as they both wrote this down. "Okay, last question; what's your favorite color? Mine's green."

"Red."

"Ha," Futakuchi said. "We're Christmas colors."

Yasushi scoffed. "Christmas is for couples."

"Why Kamasaki-san." Oh hell, there went that smooth, coy voice that Yasushi hated. "What are you trying to say?" And then before Yasushi would threaten him with violence like he deserved, his voice turned more distant, calling to someone in the house with him. "I'm in the kitchen!" His voice returned to the phone. "Whoops, gotta run. Your dad's home."

"'Pops," Yasushi corrected, beyond grumpy. Damn the universe, letting Futakuchi eat dinner with _his_ old man.

"'Pops," Futakuchi agreed, and then the line went dead. Yasushi stared up at the ceiling and tried to do some breathing exercises or something. 

_I do not deserve this shit._

In the end, he made his lunch, tried to focus on his homework, and ended up getting off one more time in the shower before bed. It felt a little weird to put on sleep clothes as opposed to sleeping in his birthday suit, but he did it anyway. Futakuchi probably wouldn't appreciate Yasushi spending any more time in his naked body than absolutely necessary. He made himself try to go to bed early, since he was going to have morning practice tomorrow. He wondered if Futakuchi was going to show up even if he didn't have to, to meddle. He doubted Futakuchi would ever feel comfortable leaving Yasushi in charge of what was now _his_ team. 

It did occur to him though, as he was plugging his phone in to charge, that he could just ask. That was the point of this curse right? To get them to communicate with each other or some shit?

From: Yasushi  
 _u coming to morning practice tomorrow_ _  
__also what are u gonna do about shimazaki_

From: dumb brat  
 _Of course I'm coming to practice, *someone* has to make sure you don't screw up my captain status_ _  
__> image attached _

Yasushi felt a mild thrill of surprise go through him as he opened the attachment. It was a letter. ' _Kadota,'_ it read.  
 _'I'll be upfront; I think we should just be friends. But it takes a lot of guts to ask someone out, so, you know. Respect._ _  
__I know we're all trying to figure things out right now. God knows I am. I think a big part of the problem is that learning about yourself isn't always fun. Some of the stuff you learn is pretty scary, which is what growing up is, I guess. Being able to face who you are honestly, 'in sober judgement' or however the saying goes. What you do with that information is your choice, but having it in the first place seems pretty important. So don't stop looking, okay?_ _  
__Good luck out there, Kadota. I hope you like what you find.'_

It wasn't signed. The handwriting was mostly Yasushi's, but not quite. He read it again, frowning. The tone of the whole thing was almost _kind._ He read it a third time, looking for the mocking, the slyness he usually associated with Futakuchi. 

From: Yasushi  
 _did u put the sober judgement part in there so she wouldn't kiss more girls drunk at parties_

From: dumb brat  
 _You caught that did you_

From: Yasushi  
 _did u really write this?_ _  
__YOU?_ _  
__u didn't copy it from somewhere?_

From: dumb brat  
 _Hand to God, that came from my own brain_ _  
__Why, is that so surprising?_

Yasushi stared down at his screen again. He opened the letter and read it over one more time. What the hell could _Futakuchi_ possibly know about being scared to learn more about himself? What could he have ever discovered that made him uncomfortable? Was it the intelligence, the athletic talent? Was it so hard to be the gifted douchebag? _'Good luck out there, Kadota,'_ he'd said. _'I hope you like what you find.'_ That wording was almost...compassionate. 

_Huh,_ Yasushi thought. The monosyllable skipped across his insides like a rock across a lake, disturbing something previously calm. Something that had been so totally certain. _... Huh. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a picture of what Kamasaki's [ping pong table ](https://hips.hearstapps.com/pop.h-cdn.co/assets/cm/15/05/768x516/54cacb7b93664_-_wood-competition-12-0811-uyffhj-xln.jpg?resize=980:*) might look like. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are ♡


	5. Kenji and His Mouth

Kenji beat Kamasaki to morning practice Saturday, but he wasn't too surprised about that. Of the two of them, the Futakuchi house was further from the school. Kamasaki arrived just as Kenji had finished changing into his practice gear. 

"Good morning senpai!" Kogane called as he came in. Kamasaki nodded to him, already unzipping the jacket of his tracksuit.

"Morning." His eyes found Kenji. "Hold up will you?" 

Kenji frowned. He still sort of thought they should at least be _attempting_ their usual antagonistic behavior but maybe what Kamasaki had said yesterday was true. Maybe that ship really had sailed. After all, Kenji stubbornly insisted that Kamasaki's body keep showing up to practice. But hey, he was justified, he figured. As if he planned on falling behind on volleyball just because of a fucking supernatural event.

 _Calm,_ he told himself. _I'm perfectly calm._

So instead of glaring, or making any other kind of scene, he just asked "What?" and stepped a little closer as Kamasaki began to change. Kamasaki took off his shirt and Kenji took a moment to admire the sight of his own back muscles. Kenji had a pretty good body, he congratulated himself. The constant exercise had left him really toned. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Obara eyeing him strangely. _Whoops._ Now was probably not the time to be checking himself out.

"Can you turn around for a second?" Kamasaki asked, once his practice shirt was on. "I just wanna see something."

 _Guess I'm not the only one trying to see my own back muscles._ Kenji turned, smirking. 

Kamasaki slapped his ass.

"Hey!" He spun back around, glaring. His voice had cracked embarrassingly and the entire locker room had heard it. 

Kamasaki, the asshole, was laughing at him. "'The one with the nice ass,' huh?" he said. His smirk was absolutely triumphant. Kenji, who didn't blush easily, found himself turning beet red.

"Shut. _U_ —"

"Oh my God," Obara interrupted. "Are you two hooking up?"

"What?!" Kamasaki somehow hit himself in the face with his locker door. Kenji flinched at the way his own voice cracked around the word, instant karma for shredding Kamasaki's voice a minute ago. 

"Why would you even _ask_ that?" Kenji demanded, embarrassed and defensive in the face of it. The entire locker room was looking at them. 

"Uh, he just smacked your ass?" Obara asked, looking between them. He was clearly giving Kamasaki a _look_. It made Kenji's stomach turn uncomfortably. It would be so easy when they were like this for Obara to call out Kenji's flirting directly to Kamasaki's face.

"Plus you showed up at practice together yesterday," Onagawa put in. " _Morning_ practice."

"So?" Kamasaki demanded. 

"The third years _never_ come to morning practice anymore."

"We thought maybe you'd had a sleepover!" Kogane chimed in. "And there was all that stuff about how you're trying to get along better now."

"That's not—we don't—" Kamasaki looked at Kenji, his face about as flustered as Kenji felt. 

"Don't worry about it," Kenji said, injecting some growl into his voice. "It's not anyone's business anyway."

"Are you worried because you're both guys?" Kogane asked, with an air of great understanding. Kenji kind of wanted to strangle him. Sakunami, at least, seemed to get that, because he was tugging on Kogane's sleeve insistently, to try to stop him. "I don't mind that stuff, senpai!" His face was so earnest, Kenji almost didn't know what to do with it. 

"Leave them alone." The sound of Takano's voice made Kenji want to weep with relief. He spoke so rarely that when he did, people tended to listen: the locker room quieted instantly. Takano surveyed them all with a face that was nearly impassive. Kenji however, could pick out the protective glint in his eye. "It's not our business."

"My bad," Obara said after a beat. Then, turning to the rest of the team, he clapped his hands. "Okay guys, let's get out there before the coaches come after us." And he began to herd everyone out until, just like yesterday, Kenji was alone in the locker room with Takano and Kamasaki. The situation made him distinctly itchy. He shut his locker as hastily as possible, intent on following after the rest of the team.

"...Why does Obara think you'd hook up with a guy?" Kamasaki's tone behind him was low and pointed.

Kenji made eye contact with Takano for a moment— _why me—_ before slipping a breezy smile onto his face. "Because I'm like a pendulum," he said, turning back around.

Kamasaki frowned. "What?"

"I swing both ways."

That frown morphed into surprised and then into a scowl. "Oh, don't get cute."

"But I _am_ cute." Kenji batted his eyelashes at him.

"And stop doing that with my face!" Kamasaki's disgruntled expression suddenly turned confused. "But then, yesterday, when I told you, why didn't you—"

"You said it yourself, right?" Kenji gave a shrug. "That wasn't us bonding." 

"Right." Kamasaki scratched at the back of his head. "I...did say that."

Kenji jerked his head towards the door. "We should get going."

"Yeah." Kamasaki fell into step with them and as they got to the locker room door, Takano held it open for them. "Oh thanks," he said, slipping through.

Kenji was about to follow him, but Takano caught his shoulder. "One day, he's going to notice that you flirt with him," he warned.

Kenji let that breezy smile fall back over his face. "I'll burn that bridge when I come to it." Nudging Takano with his shoulder, Kenji added, "Hey, thanks by the way," in his most casual tone. Takano nodded at him. Kenji loped into the gym, hands in his pockets.

Practice went...okay. Kenji gritted his teeth and tried to content himself with making mental lists of all the ways he could get Koganegawa to straighten the fuck up once Kenji was back at the wheel like he belonged. And, with a truly impressive amount of self-restraint, he managed to keep from backseat-captaining Kamasaki. He figured it would only make things more messy after their display in the locker rooms. (And if he was being honest with himself, he was feeling a little head shy about how that had gone down.)

The highlight of the practice, hands down, was discovering that in Kamasaki's body, he and Takano could chest-bump without Kenji getting bowled over. They did it twice just because they could.

"Yeah baby!" he called, pumping his fists as he and Takano were solidly back on the ground again. "Get some!" It was a spot-on impression if he did say so himself.

"Is this a side effect of the hook-up you're supposedly not having?" Obara asked with a grin. Kenji glared.

"Can't a man bond with his teammates?" he said with as much gruffness as Kamasaki's voice could muster. Which was a lot. 

Obara's comment however, just made the embarrassment worse. It ensured that he and Kamasaki barely looked at each other for the rest of practice, and afterwards, Kenji changed as fast as possible. As he was leaving the locker rooms, he spotted a now-familiar head of dark hair among the students in the hallway. She was just coming out of the girls' locker room. Of course, the soccer team would have had practice too.

_Showtime._

"Zakkun!" he called, and pushed towards her. He was vaguely aware of Kamasaki behind him, startling as he called out.

Shimazaki turned. When she saw who it was, she smiled wanly. "Hey Kamacchi."

"I gotta talk to you," he said. He knew what his play was here, he reminded himself. He didn't have to overthink it. 

She sighed. "Yeah, I guess you do." 

Fortunately, the locker rooms were close to the building's wheelchair entrance, which pretty much no one ever used. The short runaway afforded them the semblance of privacy as Shimazaki followed him down the ramp a ways. Putting her back to the wall, she folded her arms and looked up at him through the curtain of her hair. "Talk," she ordered. 

"Look," Kenji said. As he spoke, he hauled his backpack around to the front of his body and started going through one of the pockets. "I wrote Kadota a letter." The envelope he pulled out wasn't a cute stationery envelope like the one Kadota had given Kamasaki. It was a standard business envelope, pilfered from Kamasaki's father's home office. Kenji was _not_ about to spend his personal yen on nice stationary for a rejection. Shimazaki eyed the letter in his hand like it might bite her. "I just figured...maybe this would be a good chance to tell her, you know? That she's not the only one trying to figure herself out and that she's gotta be brave about it."

Shimazaki didn't take her eyes off the letter. "Did you talk about me?"

"Not a word," he promised. 

Her gaze finally found his again. "That's why you asked her to wait a day? So you could do this?"

"Yeah." Kamasaki had such an honest face. All Kenji had to do was smooth it out.

"Why didn't you just _tell me_ yesterday? I mean you could've led with that before I pissed off and cut all my afternoon classes!" 

"I told you didn't I?" Kenji offered her a self-deprecating smile. "It was a bad brain day."

Understanding washed over Shimazaki's face. She ran a hand through her hair, pinning it back off her forehead for a moment. "You did warn me about that," she admitted. She let her hair fall back and tucked her thumbs into where her uniform jacket was once again tied around her waist. "Sorry I didn't give you a chance to explain."

"Don't worry about it," Kenji said, relief unspooling throughout his whole body. "Sorry for scaring you like that. Kadota sure gets the award for plot twist of the year, huh?"

Shimazaki barked a laugh and pushed herself off the wall. "I should fucking say so." She started walking and Kenji fell into step with her.

Kenji tucked his hands into his pockets as they went. "Hey are we cool?" he asked, just to really make sure.

"Yeah." She looked up at him with her one visible eye, her expression relaxed. "We're cool." Kenji felt the same contented companionship diffuse through his body that he did when he made Takano smile. She held up one hand for him to fist-bump. Drawing one hand back out of his pocket, Kenji knocked his knuckles against hers.

As they headed up the stairs to the third-year classrooms, they passed Kamasaki and Tanako. Kamasaki was staring. Kenji's stomach flipped.

The shortened day of classes passed in a blur. As long as the teachers didn't call on him, it was easy to keep his head down and take notes. He was still riding the wave of making up with Shimazaki, the relief making him loose-limbed and relaxed. Maybe he and Kamasaki would survive this body-swap thing after all. 

The final bell rang. Kenji was packing up his things when someone said, "Kamasaki? One of your teammates is at the door." Looking up, he wasn't that surprised to see his own body standing in the doorway.

"Play nice," Shimazaki murmured in amusement. Kenji huffed for show and made his way across the classroom.

He stopped when he and Kamasaki were almost nose-to-nose. "How did you get here so fast?" he asked, frowning.

"Where there's a will there's a way, yadda yadda." Kamasaki studied him. "Are you going to find Kadota?" His voice pitched quiet. 

Kenji matched it. "Yeah. Class three right?" They both moved into the hallway to let the other students out.

"Yeah. Listen." Kamasaki seemed largely oblivious to the curious looks they were getting from the rest of his classmates. "Can you tell her...Obviously you're rejecting her and all, but if you could still tell her, if she, uh, needs someone to walk her to the bus stop at night or somethin', she should let me know."

Kenji's heart squeezed in his chest. "Can do," he said easily. "Ciao." And he turned to go with a jaunty step, while his insides tied themselves in knots.

Kenji _wanted_ to be a cynical bastard about it all. He'd _wanted,_ just then, to make some snide comment about male posturing. But. Well. There were moments sometimes, around Kamasaki, where Kenji felt a strange kind of ache. It was different than sexual frustration and couldn't seem to be alleviated by jacking off. It cropped up when Kamasaki did things like that, things that reminded Kenji that he was actually a really good person.

Shit.

Now wasn't the time to be thinking about that, Kenji berated himself. He kicked the thought to a dusty corner of his mind and began to walk a little faster. He had to catch Kadota on her way out.

Kadota was a little hard to find. Being an already short girl in a school that was 65% male, she sunk right into the crowd. Luckily, Kamasaki didn't. 

"Kamasaki-kun?" and Kenji turned to find Kadota already looking up at him. 

"Hey." Kenji offered a smile. "Can we talk in the stairwell again?"

She nodded. Her fingers had hooked in front of her again in that nervous tic he'd found so cute yesterday. The effect was dimmed now that he knew the havoc one tiny third year could wreak. She stayed one step behind him as they went, maybe trying to lessen the effect of the awkward silence (Kenji realized belatedly that he still didn't know anything real about her friendship with Kamasaki. Nothing that would let him really talk to her anyway). On the roof access landing, they both turned and looked at each other.

The first step was to scratch the back of his head, Kamasaki-style. The second step was to draw the envelope out of his jacket pocket. "I uh," he said in a passable imitation of Kamasaki's charmingly gruff manner. Kadota's eyes locked onto it, just like Shimazaki's had. "I wrote you this. So I hope you'll accept it, and my friendship I guess."

She blinked, her eyes snapping to his face. "Friendship?" she asked. Her voice was smaller than she was.

"I think it's for the best," he told her, trying for a crooked, sheepish smile.

He watched Kadota tuck her hands, still holding the letter, behind her back. "...Okay," she said quietly.

"Aw come on," Kenji tried. "Being friends with me isn't so bad, is it?"

She glanced up at him, offering a weak smile. "It's not."

He remembered what Kamasaki had asked him. Time to land this plane and get out of here. "And hey, listen. For what it's worth, if you ever need someone to wait with you at the bus stop when it's dark out or anything, you should come get me, okay? Apprenticeship buddies gotta stick together."

Her eyes dropped back to the floor. "Thank you, Kamasaki-kun," she murmured quietly. Her cheeks had turned pink again.

Kenji supposed that, whatever other bullshit Kadota may have pulled, he couldn't fault her if she liked Kamasaki because he made her feel safe. It was probably-definitely ironic though, that she had tried to confess to Kamasaki and instead gotten some guy who was also into him.

Not that Kenji was thinking about that. He allowed himself to shuffle awkwardly. Scratch his head again. "Have a good weekend, okay?"

"Yeah." She was looking off to the side now, still not making eye contact. "You too."

Kenji had turned down girls before. He couldn't figure out why this one sucked just a little more. He headed down to the wood shop with his hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched. Kamasaki was already inside, already set up by his table project in the back corner. Sakura-sensei was lingering by the door. 

"Kamasaki," he rumbled. "You gonna take responsibility for this one? He says you're gonna." He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder to where Kamasaki was already laying things out. 

"Scout's honor, sensei," Kenji agreed smoothly. 

"Alright, the door will lock automatically behind ya. Clean up and turn off all the lights when you leave."

"Can do." He meandered over to the far corner.

Kamasaki, who loathed the dress-code on a good day, had already stripped down to a thin white undershirt. Kenji caught sight of his uniform shirt and jacket rolled up on top of his bag, stuffed under a stool off to the side. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and opted instead to sit himself up on the counter. Kamasaki glanced up at him warily.

"How'd it go?" 

"Well, I delivered the letter. And the message. So that's that item checked off the list." He swung legs a little, his heels hitting the lower cupboards in a kind of off-rhythm. _Tha-thunk. Tha-thunk._ The ceiling in the woodshop was high and though the windows on this side of the room started at counter height, they still stretched over ten feet in their bid to reach it. A generous amount of light streamed in, making the lights that Sakura had left on redundant. It also rendered Kamasaki's undershirt vaguely, pleasantly, see-through. Kenji's imagination, never one to shy from a challenge, smugly allowed him to picture them back in their own bodies, to imagine that his undershirt was being stretched across Kamasaki's broader shoulders.

Then Kamasaki spoke, dragging him out of his daydream. "When you were talking to Shimazaki earlier..." He frowned down at all of the rounded pieces he had scattered across the counter, the ones he'd made on the lathe. Kenji still didn't know what they were supposed to be. "It's just. She's my best friend. I was kinda worried—I can't believe you actually _fixed_ this, you know?" A smile pulled at the corner of his lips. Kenji watched his profile, secretly fascinated. "It's the first time I've actually seen you use that mouth of yours for something good." 

Kenji's brain conjured at least four separate comments about the good his mouth could do. He dumped them into the trash.

"I thought, best case scenario, you smooth it over a little but it turns into 'that weird day we don't talk about.' But she's actually totally cool with me again." He shook his head in disbelief. "I gotta hand it to ya."

Kenji dismissed the urge to fidget at this praise. "Lies in service to truth is not a new concept, Kamasaki," he said instead. 

"Yeah?" Kamasaki finally looked up at him. "What's the truth in this case, then?"

"That Shimazaki's your friend. That you'd never do that to her." 

Kamasaki held Kenji's gaze of a moment. Then, slowly, his eyes moved down Kenji's body and back up again. It was a undeniably a once-over but was nothing like all the flirty once-overs Kenji had received from other people. If anything, it felt like Kamasaki was looking at someone he'd never seen before. He held Kenji's gaze a beat longer and then turned back to his work. "Huh," was all he said. 

The weight of the silence that settled made Kenji want to squirm. He was used to people wondering what the hell was wrong with him, but profoundly _un_ used to someone genuinely trying to figure him out. "Need me to help with anything?" he asked, just to get away from the feeling of it all. 

"Yeah. We've got the place for an hour. I'm gonna cut some more parts, I need you to stain these." He gestured to the pieces he'd laid out. Reaching to his left, he pulled something towards him, and Kenji realized it was a fully-assembled table leg. The wood of the leg formed a varnished checkered pattern, and suddenly Kenji understood the curved pieces in front of him were. They were going fit together to form the next leg.

It was, Kenji realized as they both got to work, the most peaceful moment they had ever experienced together, especially alone. He was disinclined to ruin it. _Don't you wanna see?_ a voice in his head couldn't resist asking. _Just this once, don't you wanna see how long the peace'll last?_

Also, deciding to keep quiet had the added bonus of getting to watch Kamasaki work. He moved with simple efficiency, focused in a way Kenji usually associated with the calm in the locker room before a game. It was definitely Kamasaki's game face, or something like it, Kenji saw on his own features now. Kamasaki knew what he was doing. His brows were drawn a little harsh, but his expression was calm and intent. He had a stubby pencil behind his ear that he'd used to make measurements along the wood before mounting it on the machine. Kenji was probably stupid for thinking it was charming. He was _definitely_ stupid for thinking Kamasaki's skill and focus made Kenji's face look good, even with his face protection on.

 _It's just because you're bad at woodshop,_ he comforted himself. _If you were good at it, this wouldn't be doing anything for you._

Time passed. He was so intent on not getting caught staring that he almost jumped when Kamasaki called to him. "Hey! Wanna do those questions for Moniwa now?" He had taken the results of his work with the lathe, a more than passable looking table leg, and had cut it in half with the band saw. "How are you with a gouge by the way?" As he spoke, he slid the two pieces of wood in his hands up onto the counter and hopped on to the stool closest to Kenji.

Kenji eyed him with suspicion. "I'm okay," he said, as neutrally as possible. Kamasaki had already seen how simple his metalshop project was. He shouldn't have any reason to get his hopes up about Kenji's woodshop prowess.

"'Kay well, our hour's almost up, so I'm just gonna mark out where I want you to work for Monday, in case we ain't switched back by then. And you can get Mashiba to finish the varnishing."

"I can do that," Kenji agreed. He probably could too. Gouging was naturally a slower process, unlike the power tools. With power tools you could just fuck everything up with a mistimed flick of the wrist. It made Kenji secretly nervous.

"Let me get my question sheet." Setting his paintbrush down, he wiped his hands on the shop rag he'd procured for himself before reaching for his bag. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kamasaki doing the same. 

"'Kay, first question." As Kamasaki spoke, he reached for a pencil he'd tucked behind his ear. "'What song gets you dancing?'" 

The first thought that came into Kenji's head made him laugh before he could stop it. 

"What?"

"Nothing." 

"Come on Futakuchi," Kamasaki prodded. "You wanna change back, you gotta 'fess up."

"You go first then," he insisted, playing for time. Maybe if he waited long enough he'd think of something cool.

"Alright." Kamasaki tapped the butt end of his pencil on the table as he thought. "I don't really dance, but I _do_ play a mean air guitar. So if I had to pick a song for that...'No Scared' by One Ok Rock." 

Oh well, if you couldn't be cool, be amusing. "See the problem with that," Kenji said. "Is that it is so much less embarrassing than what I was thinking of." 

He was gratified when Kamasaki raised his eyebrows at him, a smile tugging at his mouth. "So spit it out, pretty boy."

"You agree I'm pretty?" Kenji asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I agree _you_ think you're pretty." Kamasaki moved to prod him with the pencil tip. Kenji swatted his hand away. They watched each other for a moment, hands raised. Then Kamasaki huffed, not looking near as put out as he clearly wanted to be. "Get on with it."

"My little sister likes K-pop," Kenji explained. "She's got this one song, I think it's called Lollipop?" (He knew damn well it was called Lollipop. It was catchy as hell.) "It gets stuck in my head a lot." Also Kimi had been dancing to it in the living room the other day and Kenji had done a little shimmy to it to make her laugh but Kamasaki didn't need to know that.

"You listen to your sister's music? That's cute." Kamasaki was smiling for real now. 

Kenji pretended his stomach didn't thrill pleasantly at the word _'cute.'_ "I think you hear what you want to hear. I never said I listen to her music," he retorted as he wrote Kamasaki's answer down. He'd started a separate notebook page for this last night but rather than digging for that notebook now, he'd transfer the notes to it later. 

The next question asked what they would pick if they could have any wild animal as a pet; Kamasaki wanted a crocodile, Kenji wanted a cheetah. Then a question about coffee; Kamasaki took his with cream and sugar but Kenji didn't like coffee at all. 

"It's so _bitter,_ " he said, sticking out his tongue as though trying to rid his mouth of the taste.

"Yeah, fair," Kamasaki agreed. "I only started drinking it because they drink it at the shop."

"The shop?"

"My dad's store. We're in the furniture business."

"Oh right." Kenji marked this down. He'd known that, he thought. Had learned somewhere along the line of being Kamasaki's teammate. He was also pretty sure Kamasaki's apprenticeship was in the same vein. "'What's your guilty pleasure?'" he asked, moving them along.

Kamasaki tapped his pencil as he thought. "You know, I don't think I have one."

"Aw come on." Kenji fixed his most annoying grin on his face. " _Now_ who's holding back?"

"I'm serious. I don't do shit if I'm gonna feel guilty about it."

"So noble of you...I can see the logic though," he conceded after a moment, failing to come up with an answer of his own.

"I take it you don't ever feel bad for being a snarky little bitch?"

Kenji just flashed his teeth, not even remotely offended. "Why would I?" He could live with knowing he had the capacity to be an asshole. It meant no one messed with him, or talked shit about Takano where Kenji could hear them. And of course, when it came to starting shit himself, "It's not like I ever pick the easy targets."

"You sayin' I'm _not_ an easy target? Should I be flattered?"

"Are you calling yourself easy?" Kenji shot back, leering.

Kamasaki squinted at him suspiciously. Kenji was reminded of his challenge to himself to see how long the peace would last. _Whoops._ "Don't push your luck," Kamasaki warned him. "I could still stab you with a roughing gouge."

Kenji dumped the comment about Kamasaki roughing him up into the trash. 

"I mean, if I _had_ to pick a guilty pleasure," he said, steering them back into safer territory. "It would probably be stealing bites out of the stuff in the fridge my sister put her name on."

Kamasaki actually grinned at that, his mean one. "Yeah? Just bites?"

"Tastes better when it's stolen," Kenji informed him with a delight known only to siblings. "Tastes double better when they can't decide if you've tampered or not."

"You," Kamasaki informed him right back, "are evil." His grin never wavered. Kenji's blood sparkled in his veins. Then Kamasaki's gaze drifted off to the side as he thought. "I mean if we're going with something like that, sometimes I steal the nice pens from my dad's desk at work."

Kenji laughed. " _That's_ your vice? Nice pens?"

"Listen!" Kamasaki protested. He was probably trying to make it a growl but he was kind of laughing too. "Sometimes a man needs a pen he knows isn't gonna die on him in the next three days. Beats all the ones I fish out from behind the couch."

"You're such an old man," Kenji told him. The conversation momentum had slowed. They just looked at each other for a moment. The silence felt warm and comfortable in a way he wasn't used to. Kenji cleared his throat and looked back down at the list. "Next question: 'do you have a pet peeve?' Oh, I've got one for this."

"Yeah?" 

"You know how we have those shelves behind the blackboards in class? Whenever my homeroom teacher gets something out of there, she doesn't close the blackboard properly again. She always leaves it open like, three centimeters and it drives me _insane._ "

Kamasaki laughed. "That's _it?_ "

 _"Yes,"_ Kenji said with feeling. "It's like, it's _three centimeters!_ Just close it! Just close it properly!" Then, _"What?"_ because Kamasaki was grinning at him. It wasn't even the mean grin. It was almost a genuine smile.

"I think that's the first time I've heard you this worked up."

"It's _every._ _Day,_ " Kenji insisted. "It's cruel and unusual."

"That's hilarious," Kamasaki told him simply. "You're hilarious."

"That's what they tell me," Kenji said, grumpy at the way he was suddenly feeling fluttery. "What's yours?"

Kamasaki went quiet for a moment. His hand went still where it was holding the pencil. "If I'm honest?"

"Ideally, yeah."

"It's when you call me 'senpai.'" Kamasaki fixed him with a look that Kenji couldn't parse. 

"Really?" 

"Yup." Kamasaki picked up his pencil again, restless. "It drives me up the wall, 'cause I know you never do it unless you're conning me." 

"Oh really." And Kenji turned himself more fully towards Kamasaki, following the scent of blood in the water. "Is _that_ what I'm doing, sen-pai?"

Kamasaki inhaled sharply. "See there you go again," he rumbled in disapproval. A rumble was so strange to hear in Kenji's own voice. "Knock it off." 

_Is this what a power-trip feels like?_ Between this and the almost friendly back-and-forth, Kenji felt giddy. He felt like he was dreaming. The strange ache in his chest was feeling both soothed and rabid.

This was the thing, Kenji figured, turning back to his paper. Takano could warn him all he wanted that Kamasaki was going to catch onto him someday, but really, Kenji knew how this worked. It was the catch-22, the rock-and-a-hard-place of the whole situation, the thing that made him feel both better and worse. As long as they carried on like this, as long as it pissed him off, Kamasaki was never gonna take Kenji's flirting for what it really was. Flirting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zIRW_elc-rY) is the song Futakuchi was referencing and [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qKW4lqj2cNU) is Kamasaki's.
> 
> Comments and kudos are <3


	6. Yasushi and Kenji Discuss the Importance of Hugging Children

The Futakuchi house was quiet as Yasushi let himself in. He still hadn't seen the Futakuchi parents and he was curious if that would change now that the weekend was here. "I'm home!" he called, listening to see if Kimiko at least might call back. No answer. 

He didn't think too much of it as he climbed the stairs to Futakuchi's room. He had a lot of homework to get through before he could kick his weekend off properly. Maybe he could invite himself over to his own house. His dad had tomorrow off and it would be kinda nice to see him, even for a little bit. Or maybe he could drag Futakuchi to the furniture shop. If that clown was going to have to go to his apprenticeship for him on Tuesday, the least Yasushi could do to cover his own ass was to give him a crash course in how it all worked.

At the moment however, he had homework. He and Futakuchi had swapped notes from class before leaving the woodshop. The outlook was grim. School wasn't easy for Yasushi and he kind of doubted his ability to teach himself the material just based on Futakuchi's notes. Still, at least those notes were well organized. The brat even used different colors of pen and shit. A twinge of guilt plucked at him when he considered his own lackluster note-taking. Hopefully it would be enough. Maybe Futakuchi's big brain would compensate for the rest. For his own part, if Yasushi got into trouble, he could call Kaname or Shimazaki. 

In a bid to get out ahead of the thing, he took his phone out. Kaname had already texted him.

From: Moniwa Kaname  
 _I had a thought._ _  
__Can you both finish the questions by Monday?_ _  
__There's no practice after school so you could just come over and we could pray at my grandma's shrine. Maybe you'll turn back._ _  
__I'd offer to let you come over tomorrow but the family's here for my birthday._

Yasushi felt his eyebrows rise. Kaname had always claimed to have psychics in his family, which had seemed like bullshit if Yasushi was being honest. Now however, he figured he was in no position to be picky about what he believed.

From: Yasushi  
 _yeah we can do that_ _  
__can i get some help on my homework later_

From: Moniwa Kaname  
 _Sure!_ _  
__Let me know if you want to video call._

From: Yasushi  
 _ur the man_

Setting up at the desk in Futakuchi's room, he changed his clothes and tried to tuck into his work. His body wasn't getting too horny yet, which was nice. He was trying way too hard to not mentally replay Futakuchi saying _"Is_ _conning_ _you what I'm doing, senpai?_ " over and over again. Especially in light of the revelation that Futakuchi liked boys as well as girls. It didn't mean he'd like Yasushi, Yasushi reminded himself. Just because he was always trying to get a rise out of Yasushi, and apparently thought Yasushi had a really nice ass, didn't mean he was interested. Hell, there were plenty of stories about dudes who refused to date guys even if they liked guys. It was just the way of the world.

In a huff, he realized he'd been staring at his textbook page without seeing one word. His phone was flashing with a text notification. He allowed himself to get distracted and picked it up.

It was from Futakuchi. Of course it was.

From: dumb brat  
 _Hey jsyk, Kimi has a show she likes to watch on Saturdays_ _  
__It starts soon_ _  
__She's probably gonna ask you to watch with her, so play nice_

From: Yasushi  
 _i play nice with people who aren't u, yanno_ _  
__also i don't think she's home_

From: dumb brat  
 _Really?_ _  
__That's weird, she always gets home before me_

Yasushi frowned at his phone, considering. Kimiko was old enough that she definitely didn't need her hand held every minute of the day. Still...Getting up from his desk, he stepped out into the hallway. Kimiko's room was right across from Futakuchi's. The door was shut.

"Kimiko?" he called. Listening intently as he was, he heard the faintest traces of shuffling from inside the room. 

"What?" came the response after a moment. Her voice sounded wet. Yasushi felt something cold thrill through his stomach.

"Our show's gonna start soon. We gonna watch?" 

"Leave me alone."

Yasushi blinked at the closed door. He was an only child and definitely out of his depth here. He'd heard about sibling fights but had no idea how to navigate one. He'd never even fought with his cousins. He retreated back to Futakuchi's room and picked up his phone again.

From: dumb brat  
 _Can you just see if she's there?_

From: Yasushi  
 _she's here but she locked herself in her room_ _  
__she sounded upset_

The reply took a while to come. Yasushi wondered if Futakuchi was thinking.

From: dumb brat  
 _Okay did she say why? You don't have to ask her for details I mean, it's just she's not the kind of person who likes to be alone when she's upset, you know how it is._

Yasushi didn't really know how that was. Still, he scratched the back of his head and gamely went back into the hallway. "Kimiko?" he said, knocking on her door. "What's wrong?"

"I said leave me alone! It's dumb."

Well, _that_ seemed like a pretty clear rejection. Yasushi hesitated, torn between her words and her brother's. "Can't be that dumb," he tried. "Since we're a super genius family and all." 

Another pause. "...Come in," she said reluctantly. And he slid the door open.

Kimiko had clearly been lying facedown on her bed, though she was looking over her shoulder as he came in. She was still in her school uniform, though her leg-warmers were discarded at the end of her bed. Her face was red and puffy and there were tissues by the floor near her bed. Her hair, so neat this morning, was slipping out of its two little buns.

"What happened?" Yasushi tried again.

"I told you. It's dumb." She curled up on her side a little as she spoke. 

"And I told you, we're all a buncha geniuses." Delicately, he sat down on the edge of her bed. He didn't think he'd ever dealt with a crying girl in his _life._ Well okay, except for the time the women's soccer team got knocked out of Nationals in the first round but when Shimazaki had cried then she had been totally silent about it, just a tear or two leaking out as she glared out over the field. He'd just knocked his shoulder gently against hers as they stood outside the change rooms and that had been the whole of it. 

"You're just gonna get on my case," Kimiko sniffed at him.

Futakuchi got on her case for crying? Or for trying to hide it? Yasushi was completely lost. At least he knew one thing for sure. "It's your lucky day," he told her. "I'm feeling like a whole n'other person. No case-getting."

She scrunched her nose at him, and for a moment he wondered if she was going to tell him to leave. But instead she said, "It's Mom and Dad."

"Yeah? What'd they do?"

"You know how I've got my recital next weekend? And they promised to come?"

 _Nope._ "...Yeah?"

"Mom just texted. They're not gonna be able to make it."

Yasushi frowned. "Oh shit." That seemed disappointing, sure. Privately though, he wondered at the point of crying over it. Was it _that_ bad? There'd be other recitals, right?

She squinted at him. "I knew you wouldn't care."

"I do!" Yasushi insisted, despite what he'd just been thinking. "I care!" 

She sniffled and then rolled onto her back, looking up at the ceiling. "I know you said I should just give up caring about it or whatever but not everyone works like that, nii-san." Yasushi watched her rub her eye with the back of her hand. "I can't compartmentalize this stuff like you do." 

Yasushi filed that particular sentence away for later, along with a whole host of other things that had to do with Futakuchi, hesitant and new in his chest. Instead he focused on something Futakuchi himself had said. "Well, I don't wanna leave you all sad like this, so I'll tell you what. You should take a hot shower and then we can watch our show and forget about Mom and Dad." He tired a smile when she looked back down at him. "Come on, whaddya say?"

She gave another sniffle and then looked back up at the ceiling. "Yeah, okay." Her feet knocked together restlessly. "I'll meet you downstairs I guess." 

"Sure," Yasushi said. He got back up. "See you there." 

He had a bunch of new messages from Futakuchi, demanding to know what was going on. Rather than responding, he waited until he heard the shower running and hit the call button.

"What's happening?" Futakuchi asked when he picked up.

"She says your parents called? They can't make it to her recital next week or something." As he spoke, Yasushi shut the door to the bedroom and sunk back down onto the chair at the desk.

There was a loaded sort of pause. "You're kidding me," Futakuchi said slowly. "No, don't answer that, I know you're not. God, they _always do this._ " There was a sigh. His voice took on a sarcastic kind of pleasantry. "This time it's just especially neat and cool because this recital is what's gonna get her into the performing arts school she wants next year. Fun fact," he continued, really warming to the topic. "She's been practicing for this for like 6 months. She did the arrangement _herself._ Another fun fact." 

It occurred to Yasushi that if Futakuchi ranting about the blackboard in his classroom was the most worked up he'd ever heard the guy, this spiel was absolutely blowing that out of the water. The new thing in his chest thrummed. Futakuchi continued.

"And you know, like I said, they always do this, but they _did_ promise this time. I mean, any other time I'd call them up and make them feel shitty just for kicks, but I can't do that because I'm stuck as _you._ "

"I'll do it." It came out almost without him meaning it to.

"What?" He could hear the frown in Futakuchi's voice. "What are you talking about?"

"I'll do it." As Yasushi repeated the words, he found he meant them. He couldn't even feel annoyed at Futakuchi's dig about being stuck as him because, well, _yeah._ It sounded like the Futakuchi siblings were right to be hurt. Yasushi's own parents were busy as fuck, everyone's were, but he had childhood memories of being woken up by his own mother when she got off a shift late at night, just so she could see him for a bit. There were ways to make time.

"You don't have to." Futakuchi sounded suspicious and pissed in equal measure. "You don't even have my phone. They're not gonna take a call from a random number."

"So I'll come over there and you give me your phone." Yasushi picked at a stray thread on his pants. 

"Why would you do that?"

"'Cause your sister's really upset about this." _And so are you._ "Besides. I owe you for the Kadota thing."

"You don't owe me for fixing a problem _I_ caused, senpai."

 _There you go again, conning me._ Which in this case probably meant that Futakuchi was trying to get out of asking for help. Typical. "So take me to lunch and we'll call it even."

"...What?" 

"You heard me." A part of him, deep in his stomach, fluttered at the idea that Futakuchi might come back with a response about how just 'cause they both liked boys, didn't mean he was gonna ask Yasushi out. Then there were the nerves over the idea that maybe Futakuchi had noticed his attraction, despite his best efforts, and was about to call him on it. He tamped down on that part. "Buy me lunch," he repeated.

He shouldn't have worried. "Alright, _fine_ ," Futakuchi said. "Then we'll be even." He tried to sound calm too but Yasushi could pick up the undercurrent of surprise in his own voice. 

He plowed ahead. "Great. You free tomorrow? We can get the rest of the questions out of the way too."

"Sounds good. You'll make the call then?"

"Nah." Yasushi drummed his fingers on the desk, thinking. "You said your sister needs company when she's upset right? She and I could come over there for dinner. My pops wouldn't mind."

"...Really?" 

"Yeah, he gets home early on Saturdays. He'll wanna cook with you anyway. Tell him we got stuff for curry. And then tell him you wanna have some friends over. He likes my friends."

Futakuchi hummed for a moment and then folded. "Fine. What time are you guys gonna get here?"

Yasushi took his phone away from his ear for a moment and checked the time. "We'll aim for 6:00. Sound good?"

"Sure. Oh, uh," Futakuchi continued as if something had just occurred to him. "My mom keeps a few bottles of wine in the cupboard above the fridge. For when we need to go places and bring a gift. You can bring one with you."

"Oh. Smart." Distantly, Yasushi heard the shower shut off. "Hey, your sister and I are gonna watch that show now. See you later." Homework would just have to wait. 

"Yeah. Sure," Futakuchi said. "...See you." 

As he headed down to the living room, Yasushi realized he didn't even know what this show _was_ , much less what channel it was on. So he contented himself with playing Snake on his phone until Kimiko came downstairs. She looked more comfortable at least, in gym shorts and an old, neon yellow sweater.

"Why didn't you put it on?" she asked, throwing herself down on the other end of the couch.

"I was waiting for you." Yasushi pushed himself up off the couch. "You want snacks?"

"Are you being nice 'cause I was crying?" She looked up at him suspiciously.

Was _that_ how siblings worked? "Fine," he tried instead. "Get your own snacks."

She squawked. "Wait, I didn't mean, start being _mean!_ " 

"Too late," Yasushi called, not looking back as he strode into the kitchen and began to go through the cupboards. 

"I want snacks!"

He returned with a bag of chips and milk tea for himself and when she tried to steal a sip from him, he threw a chip at her. It seemed like the kind of bratty thing Futakuchi would do. She scowled at him, but plucked the chip from the front of her sweater and ate it.

The show was some kind of variety show. There was a lot of dancing. "We could learn that one," Kimiko said, motioning with her own bottle of milk tea which she had finally gotten after a lot of whining. On screen, a female duo was dancing to Perfume's Edge. The title card announcing the song hovered in the bottom corner of the screen.

"The dance?" Yasushi looked at her, and then back at the tv to hide his surprise.

"Yeah, what else?" 

_Ha,_ Yasushi thought, a grin breaking across his face. _I_ _knew _ _Futakuchi listened to his sister's music._ "I got the outfit at least," he agreed, taking in the performers' black tank tops and fashionably baggy track pants.

It was kind of cute the way Kimiko's eyes lit up at that. "This is what I've been saying! The outfits make it!"

"Well, it helps if you already have it," Yasushi agreed. "Sure, let's do it."

"Really?"

Yasushi smiled at her with teeth, gleeful at the idea of digging Futakuchi into this hole. "Absolutely." 

"Oh yeah," he added as the show went to commercials. "We've got an invite out for dinner."

Kimiko blinked. "'We?' Like both of us?"

"Yeah. Over to a friend of mine's house." He wondered if that was true, calling them friends. They definitely knew each other way better than they had three days ago. That had to count for something right? "Some home cooking might be nice, hey?" He nudged her with his foot.

"I knew it," she said petulantly. "You _are_ being nice because I cried."

"Well, ain't you supposed to be nice to crying people?" Siblings were weird, he decided. Kimiko and Futakuchi apparently had an antagonistic relationship, but they still shared music and Futakuchi got pissed when people made her cry and had also apparently talked to her about _Yasushi's ass._ Yasushi was never gonna get over that last one.

"Hmph." She looked back at the tv screen. He watched a fond smile slowly come over her face. "Okay sure, why not. Beats leftovers."

" _That's_ what I'm talking about." As he spoke, he reached for the chips again.

"Which friend, do I know them? It's not Taka-niichan is it?"

'Taka-niichan,' that was cute. The idea of Kimiko calling Aone that to his face which, come to think of it, she probably did, was the most adorable shit Yasushi had ever imagined. "Nah. It's Kamasaki's place."

And just like that, she was sitting up straighter and squinting at him. "Kamasaki? Weren't you just on the phone with him, like yesterday?"

He frowned at her, suddenly uneasy. "Yeah? So?"

"So, when did you two get so close? I thought he hated you."

 _Is that what Futakuchi thinks?_ Yasushi shook his head. "He never hated me." _I didn’t._ "I just ride his jockstrap so hard all the damn time. It pisses him off."

"And why do you think you do _that_ hmm, nii-san?" Kimiko was smirking at him now. It was a very Futakuchi smirk. 

He scowled. "I don't know." 

"'Cause you _like_ him." 

The world tilted.

"Shut the front door," Yasushi breathed. "That is not true."

"Deny it all you want, nii-san," she said, completely unfazed. She looked so cheerful, like she hadn't blown his mind with that one simple sentence. "But you know bothering the person you like for attention is pretty elementary school, right?" With that she turned back to the tv. "Now hush. It's starting again."

Yasushi was grateful for the distraction. He felt like someone had just dunked him in ice water. 

There were moments in life where all the pieces suddenly clicked into place, and you suddenly knew something for dead sure. When you realized you had been on the cusp of knowing that something for a really long time. _What the fuck,_ Yasushi thought, staring at the tv screen. _What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck._

= =

The Futakuchi family didn't have any of the usual problems. Kenji and Kimiko's parents had never hit them. Sure, they'd both gotten spanked when they were still in kindergarten, but never beyond that. Their mom had a sharp temper but rarely yelled. There was always food in the house, and the bills were always paid. Kenji and Kimiko always had everything they needed.

The problem with the Futakuchi family could be illustrated like this:

The same year Kenji got sent to the principal's office for calling one of Takano's bullies a bitch, he and his mom had a fight. He had needed the computer for some school project. This was back when most families just had one computer that existed in its own room, and Kenji had been allowed in said room to use it. Once he had finished and his parents were packing him off to bed, his mom discovered that she had an email from work. ' _URGENT,'_ it had said. ' _RESPOND IMMEDIATELY WHEN YOU GET THIS_.' 

And his mom had been so mad.

"Damnit Kenji! You tied up the computer for _two hours_ ," she'd told him, typing away furiously as she composed her response. "I could have seen this sooner!"

Now, at seventeen, Kenji understood that if there had been a real emergency his mom's office could have phoned the house. But even at eleven, he had been hard to intimidate. "Stop it!" he'd snapped. "Stop talking to me like I did something wrong!"

His mom had sent him to his room for mouthing off.

His dad had poked his head in to check on him at some point. "Are you mad at your mom, Kenji?" he asked, coming to sit at the foot of Kenji's bed. 

"Why does Mom love me?" It was a question that had been on Kenji's young mind for years at that point. It had made his stomach sick to voice aloud. "She's not happy to have me around." 

"Oh Kenji," his dad began, putting his hand on Kenji's knee. "Mothers have to love their children." 

...So yeah. Kenji was not surprised that their parents were missing Kimi's recital. Familial obligation only went so far, clearly.

In light of this, when Kamasaki's dad came home and announced himself by saying, "Yassun, I got a poster of that guy you like," Kenji felt like he was having a stroke.

"Come again?" he said blankly, his knife frozen mid-downstroke. 

"That guy you like!" Kamasaki-ojisan said, poking his head into the kitchen and waving the rolled up poster at him. "From that band? You know?"

"I listen to a lot of bands, Pops," Kenji said. His voice was a little faint. 

Kamasaki-ojisan was tall, maybe only 5 cm shorter than his son. He was probably in his late 40's and solid in a way that only came with decades of manual labor. He had been easy to hang out with last night, eating Filipino food and watching a soccer match together. Honestly, Kenji was still struggling to process the fact that he appeared to have an actual _personality._ Most adults he knew didn't. 

"Yeah, yeah, smartass," Kamasaki-ojisan said, letting the poster unroll. He cursed when it immediately began to curl back in on itself and he had to put his keys on the counter to hold it with both hands. Kenji leaned forward to examine it.

It was small as far as posters went, maybe slightly larger than a standard piece of printer paper. If the blurb next to the sprawled figure was anything to go by, this was a reprint of a magazine page. Kenji didn't recognize the man on sight, but the heading declared his name to be Shintaro. Shintaro had great bone structure, Kenji'd give him that. 

"Thanks Pops," Kenji said, taking the poster from him and continuing to read through. Oh, he was from UVERworld. Yeah that seemed like a band Kamasaki would be into. Kenji liked some of their stuff too. 

"Hey," he added before he could lose the opportunity. "Is it okay if some of my friends come over for dinner?"

"Tonight?" As he spoke Kamasaki-ojisan hung up his coat and tucked his keys back into the pocket. "Yeah, that should be okay. Who?"

"Futakuchi and his sister." He stopped himself from explaining further, unsure with how familiar Kamasaki's dad already was with the volleyball team.

"He's the guy you made captain this next year?" Oji-san asked with a slight frown on his face, like he was trying to place him.

"Yeah that's him." 

"You guys are friends now?" Oji-san came into the kitchen properly now and opened up the fridge. Kenji watched him fish out a beer and crack it open. 

Kenji shrugged. "We get along better," he allowed.

"Well hey, that's good. Yeah, bring 'em on over. What're we making for dinner?" Oji-san was already rolling up his sleeves.

"We got curry stuff."

"Alright. You need me to start the rice?"

"Please and thank you."

At 6:00 on the dot, Kenji was getting antsy. At 6:13, the doorbell rang. "Finally," he muttered to himself, wiping his hands and heading to answer it. Kamasaki and Kimi were standing there, Kimi holding a grocery bag. Kenji was surprised to find his heart squeezing in his chest at the sight of her. It had only been two days since he'd been at home, he wouldn't have expected to miss her already. Maybe it was the knowledge that she was having a bad day and he couldn't be there.

"Futakuchi, hey," he said, shoving all these thoughts aside. "This your sister?"

"Yeah, this is Kimiko." Kamasaki motioned to her and she dipped her head respectfully. "You gonna let us in or what?"

"I was _getting_ to that." Kenji shot him a glare even as he moved aside. He didn't miss the look Kimi shot Kamasaki or the way the back of Kamasaki's neck was turning slightly red. _Uh oh._ He could only pray Kimi hadn't said something incriminating.

"Is that them?" came a voice from down the hallway. Kamasaki-ojisan poked his head into the entryway. Kenji was treated to the sight of Kamasaki's expression softening as he looked at his dad.

"Pops," Kenji said. "This is Futakuchi Kenji and his sister Kimiko."

"Welcome," Oji-san said. "Yassun's told me about you. Always nice to meet one of his teammates." His hand found Kenji's shoulder. "Yassun, can you close the door in the living room? Looks like there's going to be weather."

"Sure," Kenji said, slipping dutifully into the next room. The sliding glass doors that led to the yard had been left open to the fresh air. Sure enough, the approaching nightfall appeared to be bringing heavy clouds with it. 

Distantly he heard Kamasaki-ojisan saying, "Oh, is this wine for us? I'll put it in the kitchen." And as Kenji slid the door closed, he became aware of a presence over his shoulder.

"Phone," Kamasaki muttered in his ear. "Come on, let's go." His hands patted at Kenji's pockets, bolder than he probably would have been with someone else's body. 

"You could wait two seconds," Kenji bitched, even as Kamasaki was drawing his phone out of his pants. "You need me to show you the unlock anyway."

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat behind them. The two boys turned to see Kimi standing there, wearing such a shit-eating grin that Kenji was almost proud. "Am I interrupting something, Kamasaki-senpai?" she asked, eyes dropping to where Kamasaki had Kenji's phone half out his pocket. His other hand, having given up its search, was resting on Kenji's hip.

"Don't worry about it," Kenji breezed, his hand falling to Kamasaki's and finishing the task of grabbing the phone for him. "Dinner's almost ready Kimiko-san, you can just sit for a moment." Unlocking his phone with one hand, he stepped away from Kamasaki and scooped up the tv remote with the other. Even as he turned the television on, he was aware of Kimi's eyebrows, rising as they took in the sight of what appeared to be Kamasaki, unlocking her brother's phone with ease. "Come on, Futakuchi, I'll get you two some tea." And he dragged Kamasaki into the hallway.

Fortunately, Kamasaki-ojisan was in the kitchen so as long as they stayed in the hall, they had the brief semblance of privacy. "Here," Kenji said, navigating to his mom's number. "You still want to do this?"

"Hey, I got lunch on the line, remember?" Maybe it was just so they would keep their voices low, but Kamasaki was stepping into his space, crowding him against the wall. It made Kenji's heart thump. "Anything in especial you'd like me to say?"

"You're not gonna be able to change their minds so don't bother trying," Kenji warned, handing the phone over. "Just yell at them about how hard she's been working and how her coach said she's one of the best students they've ever had. They probably don't even know that. And if you wanna bring out the big guns, you can mention how neither of them came to _my_ middle school graduation and I let it slide."

Kamasaki's hand froze on his phone so that they were each holding one end. He tilted his head. With Kenji was slouched against the wall, they were eye-to-eye. "...You really weren't hugged as a child, were you?" he said quietly. 

"Not that I remember," he said. He'd managed to make his tone flippant but something in Kamasaki's face softened anyway. It was the absolute worst. 

"I'm gonna take this in my room, okay?" And Kamasaki tugged the phone almost gently out of his hand. Kenji could not _imagine_ what on his face would prompt Kamasaki to add, "Hey. Chin up princess or the crown slips, right?"

"Watch it, senpai," Kenji told him. "You don't get to call me 'princess' unless you plan on doing some kneeling." 

And he laughed at the way Kamasaki's eyes flared wide. That laughter died in his throat throat when he realized the expression on Kamasaki's expression was one of realization. _Shit._

"Bite me Futakuchi." Kamasaki's tone was almost friendly. 

Kenji elected to ignore that. It was self-preservation at this point. "Last chance to back out," he said instead. 

"Nah." Kamasaki's face took on something sleek and shark-like. "You know me. I'm good at playing bad cop." And with a smooth turn, he sauntered up the stairs, completely at ease in his own house. Kenji watched him go.

Shaking his head to clear it, he headed for the kitchen. Kamasaki-ojisan was there, carefully stirring the curry. "It just needs to thicken a little more," he said as Kenji walked in. "I have the tea on the tray for your friends." He nodded over his shoulder at the counter.

"Thanks." Kenji gathered the tea tray into his hands. "Oh, Futakuchi had to make a call. I told him he could do it in my room." 

"Well, if you're comfortable with that then that's fine," Oji-san allowed. He caught Kenji's eye with a sharp-toothed smirk. 

Kenji frowned. "What?"

"I know it's none of my business, and I know teenagers don't like to discuss these things with their old man but..."

"Pops," Kenji warned. His stomach couldn't take much more of this.

"I'm just saying, there's nothing wrong with having a type. We all have one."

"Okay I'm going into the other room now, bye!" he announced loudly, forestalling whatever the hell this conversation was supposed to be. He knew he'd already been gone from the living room a suspicious amount of time. Hoisting the tray off the counter he scurried out of the kitchen.

Kimi was politely watching television when he returned. She looked brightly curious to see him back without Kamasaki but she didn't comment. She just took the cup of tea he offered her with a chirpy, " _Itadakimasu!_ " and took a sip. 

"Your brother had to make a phone call," he told her. She tilted her head at him curiously. "He'll be back."

"Did he say what for?"

Kenji debated not telling her for a half-second, but the point of this was to make her feel better anyway, right? To make her feel like someone gave a shit. "He said something about talking to your parents?"

Immediately she groaned and put her face in one hand. "He's so embarrassing," she muttered. But Kenji knew what his sister looked like when she was trying not to cry. 

It was subtle though. A stranger probably wouldn't notice it. Instead of commenting, he calmly turned back towards the tv. "Hey, I'm sure it's something important," was all he said. 

As if in response, Kamasaki's muffled, raised voice could be heard through the ceiling. Both Kenji and Kimi lifted their eyes to it. "Embarrassing," Kimi muttered again. But Kenji recognized the way she fidgeted, both flustered and pleased. 

"Futakuchi says you're going to a school for the performing arts next year?" he prompted, trying to draw her out. 

"Yeah, Yamada-Kousaku Daiichi," she said. "I'm going for music."

"Music, eh? What do you play?" He was doing a good job of just seeming politely curious, if he did say so himself. He took a sip of his own tea. 

"The violin, mostly. But I started playing the stand-up bass for our jazz band too because they needed someone to fill out the lower section." 

Kenji shared a private, knowing smile with himself. "Stand-up bass, huh? I bet you got buff lugging that thing everywhere."

"I sure did!" She rolled up her sleeve and flexed her arm proudly. Lean muscle stood out. 

"Hey-yyy," he said appreciatively. "Look at you, hot shot."

Kamasaki's voice sounded through the ceiling again, loud enough that Kenji could just make out the words. "No, you listen to me! I said, _you_ listen to _me!_ "

"Sorry," Kimi mumbled, shoulders hunching. "He's not usually like this. He doesn't usually get worked up about stuff." 

"Do he and your parents fight a lot?" It was kind of a rude question to ask someone you'd supposedly just met, but it wasn't like Kenji was misrepresenting Kamasaki by asking it. If Kamasaki and Kenji had one thing in common it was that neither of them were exactly nice people. 

"...It's more like they avoid each other," Kimi said finally, eyes resolutely fixed to the tv. "There's—I was thinking about going to this one school in Sendai, Sendai Academy of the Arts. But I'd have to live in the dorms for that, and if I leave, nii-san would be by himself."

"Oh." Kenji’s throat suddenly seemed thick. "I...did not know that." _She wanted to go to_ _Sendai_ _?_

"Dinner!" Kamasaki-ojisan called at that moment, startling both of them. "Is Futakuchi-kun still on the phone?" 

"Yeah." Kenji pushed himself up off the couch. "I'll go get him, one second." 

Kamasaki turned to him as Kenji opened the door to his room. Kenji couldn't help the laugh that bloomed in his chest at the way he looked, the very picture of righteous indignation, so worked up over the sister of what had to be his most hated teammate. What even was Kenji's fucking life.

"Dinner," Kenji told him. Kamasaki gave a jerky nod.

"Look, I'm going," he said into the phone. "They got dinner waiting for me. Good talk... _Bye._ " And he ended the call with a vicious jab of his thumb to the screen. 

"God," he said as he gave Kenji's phone back. "Are they always like that?"

"Like what?" Kenji pretended to lead him back down the narrow stairway. Their footsteps thudded together in a cascading percussion.

"It was like fighting with a brick wall."

"Oh." Kenji snorted. "Yup." 

" _God_ ," Kamasaki muttered again, and then they were in the dining room.

"Sounds like you had a lively phone call, Futakuchi-kun," Kamasaki-ojisan said as the two of them sat down. Apparently he had about as much tact as his son.

"Well you know what they say," Kamasaki returned easily, sliding into the chair besides Kimi. "If you can't be convincing, be loud." 

"Who says _that?_ " Kenji sat down across from him. 

Kamasaki fixed him with a patient look. "I did. Just now."

Kimi laughed. It made Kenji feel lighter, which was mushy and gross. 

"Yassun," Oji-san said. "You want to serve our guests?" 

"Sure," Kenji said, and because he couldn't help himself really, he gave a snooty little, "Your Majesty," as he plunked Kamsaki's plate down in front of him. 

That knowing look flashed over Kamasaki's face again. It made the hairs on Kenji’s neck stand up. "Thanks _sen-pai_ ," Kamasaki returned, his voice a drawl. 

The shit-eating smirk was back on Kimi's face, and this time on Oji-san's too. _Fuck._ Keeping his own face as straight as possible, Kenji served Kimi her food and then Oji-san for good measure. When they all had their plates in front of them, they crowed out the blessing in unison before digging in. 

It was...weird. Weird in a good way, sure. But it was definitely surreal to eat a meal as a family. A soft rain had started to fall and the warm lighting of the dining room made the whole thing feel especially close and cozy. Kenji couldn’t wrap his head around it. Sure, sometimes he brought Kimi over to Takano's house and they ate with the Aone parents but this felt different. Why? This was basically the same thing. Was it because his parents had decided to be shitty today? Probably. That was probably why it made him happy to hear Kamasaki-ojisan ask Kimi about all the music they played in jazz band, to watch them grow animated when they found composers they both recognized. Currently, they were both chattering excitedly about something called _The Long Yellow Road._

"We had a dessert concert at the school festival last year," Kimi was explaining happily. "And we had pamphlets on the life of Akiyoshi Toshiko and a history of jazz in Japan."

"No way. I woulda liked to see that." Oji-san grinned, helping himself to another round of curry. "You know, I think I still have the vinyl of that record in storage somewhere."

Kenji did his best to raise an eyebrow at Kamasaki but was foiled by Kamasaki's own facial muscles. _Do_ _you_ _know who Akiyoshi Toshiko is?_ he tried to ask with the resulting expression.

Kamasaki had had his chin propped in his hand. He lifted it enough to flick his wrist in a dismissive shrug. _Do I_ _look_ _like I know who that is?_ He raised one eyebrow back.

Kenji laughed and Kamaski's expression went a little soft at the sound. Kenji's guts twisted.

Weird. This whole thing was so weird.

Dinner turned into dessert and dessert turned into more tea. Kamasaki-ojisan continued to ask them about school, about their extracurriculars, occasionally pausing to brag about how well his own son’s apprenticeship was going. 

“Have you seen the final project he’s doing for woodshop this year?” Oji-san asked Kamasaki. “We’re gonna display it in our furniture showroom when it’s done. I definitely couldn’t have made something like that when I was his age.”

“I bet you could have,” Kamasaki said. 

“Kiss-ass,” Kenji told him. Kamasaki leered. It was an expression that promised payback.

“I’m no good at that shop stuff,” he said, turning to Oji-san pleasantly. “We’ve got metalshop as 2nd years, you should see my cute little project for _tha—_ ”

Kenji kicked him under the table.

“Hey!” Kamasaki glared at him.

“But you’re in college prep classes aren’t you?” Kenji told him, as innocent as possible. “You should talk about that instead.”

“Please don’t,” Kimi said. “I have to hear you complain about it all the time.”

Oji-san laughed. “You guys are too funny.”

After the tea cups were drained, Kamasaki and Kimi begged off, both citing the mountain of homework they had to get through. "I'll text you about tomorrow," Kamasaki said as he was putting on his shoes again. Kenji couldn't figure out if he genuinely didn't notice the way Kimi and his dad took interest when he said shit like that, or if he just didn't care. "We'll talk time and place."

"Fine," Kenji said. "Kimiko-san, thanks for coming. It was good to see you."

"You too!"

Kamasaki frowned at him. Kenji waited him out. "What about _me?_ " Kamasaki demanded finally, just like Kenji knew he would.

"What _about_ you?" Kenji asked, the smile creeping into his voice. Behind him, Oji-san made a particularly suspicious cough. Kenji forced his expression to stay neutral. Fine, maybe Kamasaki wasn't the only one who forgot who might be listening. 

Whatever. Life was too short to deny himself the pleasure of bothering his strongest upperclassman. At least if Kamasaki put him in a headlock, he'd get a faceful of bicep. Well. Not right _now_ , but he would most days.

"They were nice," Oji-san said as Kenji shut the door behind them. He had that knowing look on his face.

"They were," Kenji said cautiously. 

"So...are you dating anyone?"

Kenji eyed him with suspicion. The Kamasaki house was like this upside down world where an adult could look at the possibility of their son dating another boy, and just...accept it. Kenji had felt a lot of things for Kamasaki, bad and good, but this was the first time envy had ever reared its ugly head. “Why do you ask?” he said, trying for casual.

“‘Cause I may be twenty years out of the dating game, but I recognize flirting when I see it.” Oji-san scratched at the back of his head, a familiar gesture. “I will admit, I never thought you’d be comfortable enough to do it in front of me. It's nice, if I'm honest.”

Kenji groaned and pulled the collar of his shirt up over his face. His didn’t know how to even pretend to react to any kind of father-son moment. "Leave me alone, I am not that obvious," he lied. He absolutely was that obvious, there had just never been any consequences to it before.

"Subtly does not run in this family kiddo," Oji-san said, slapping him on the back. "And you, my friend, have a _lot_ of Kamasaki blood inside you."

Kenji’s brain offered up a comment about Kamasaki being inside him. He threw it into the trash. He didn’t need Kamasaki in him. And he definitely didn’t need to be in Kamasaki’s family. If he was already entertaining a fantasy or two about repeating this whole evening again sometime, so what. No one would ever be able to prove anything.

"Okay, time to scoot upstairs,” Oji-san said, breaking him out of his thoughts. “I know you got homework too.”

= =

As they made their way to the train station, Kimiko had tucked her face into her collar against the evening chill. Her eyes sparkled as they peeped out, like the cat that got the canary. "Wanna tell me what _that_ was, nii-san? 'Cause, I’m just saying. This is why I think you like him."

Yasushi made a sound like a horse sneezing. _Yeah, son of a bitch,_ he thought ruefully. _I think I like him too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Long Yellow Road](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-4yKGoSFrD0) for any jazz fans out there. The brass section absolutely gets it.  
> Comments and kudo are :)


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